


Grimm In Love

by Ofelia Araignée (Raphaela_Crowley)



Category: Grimm (TV), Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Snow White Fusion, Crossover, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, Friendship/Love, Grimm Brothers - Freeform, Monsters, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Snow White Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphaela_Crowley/pseuds/Ofelia%20Araign%C3%A9e
Summary: While on an attempted murder case, Nick discovers another Grimm in Portland. When he learns she's been separated from her missing twin brother (also a Grimm) he wants to help her get back on her feet, feeling strongly that it's the right thing to do. Juliette, though, is none too happy when Nick invites this "new Grimm" to stay with them.
Relationships: Ariel Eberhart/Hansel (Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters), Hansel & Gretel, Nick Burkhardt/Gretel (Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters), Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Kudos: 10





	1. Copper & Candy

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was originally written December 2013

_Grimm In Love_

Chapter 1: Copper & Candy

Opening Quote: _"Alas!" Said She, "I Believed Him True To Me, But He Has Forgotten Me."_

Lately, Nick had been having a lot of dreams about houses. _Burning_ houses. Big-ass mansions made of copper and candy, going up in flames, melting to the ground in hot puddles of metal and sugary goo.

He tried his best not to bother Juliette with these bizarre nightmares. After all, she'd had enough problems lately, thanks to him. He was already putting her through so much worry. Turning into a zombie, looking comatose, fighting more Wesen than ever...

Yes, whenever possible, it was best to spare her.

And, thanks to his new abilities, he realized he was getting better at not jumping up in a cold sweat or panting or doing anything else that would give his imaginary troubles away. Nick could wake up, calm and collected, no problems, half a slow smile already forming, from any given nightmare. Sometimes, for ever increasing minutes, he didn't even remember them. It was all blackness. Then it would come back. The longest it had ever taken was until he'd been getting dressed. That had been kind of weird, since for a second there he couldn't figure out where the melting houses in his mind had come from, until the fact that it was a dream -a nightmares of sorts- came back, slowly, spilling into his mind like flowing thick chocolate batter, or molasses.

This morning, though, it was harder to forget about his dreams once they'd come back, because Juliette was making some kind of gingerbread house for a holiday fundraiser at the vet's office.

And here it was, a perfect miniature of a candy house, right in the middle of Nick's kitchen. Oh, _joy_...

"Hey." Juliette smiled at him, licked a bit of icing shingle off her fingers, and made a grab for the coffeepot. "Coffee?"

Nick grinned. "Yeah, sure." He was still so happy to have her back in his life, without any trouble, without memory loss, without secrets. Nothing was standing between them anymore. Everything should have been perfect. Maybe, in a way, it _was_. Maybe this was as close to perfect as the life of a Grimm could ever get.

And honestly? Nick thought he could make do with that.

"Here you go." Juliette handed him a steaming mug.

"Thanks." Nick reached for it, only for his iphone to go off as soon as his fingers made contact with the warm porcelain. "Damn." Answering, he sighed, " _Burkhardt_."

Juliette looked down at her feet, disappointed. She knew what that apprehensive expression on her boyfriend's face meant; they were calling him in.

"Homicide a few streets away," Nick announced, after hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket. "Gotta go." With that, he gave Juliette a quick peck on the mouth, took a single swig of coffee before putting it in the sink, and fast-walked right out of there.

"See you when you get back, Nick..." she called after him, not sure he'd actually heard.

This was not something she was glad to remember: him always going, work always calling him away. Sure, _she_ got called away for emergencies when people's pets got sick, all the time, but somehow that just _felt_ different.

* * *

As soon as Nick arrived at the scene, Hank and Sergeant Wu showing up at the same moment in another car, seven grizzled old men came running out of the house to meet him.

It was a nice house, homey and old, sort of like a big two-storey cottage renovated. Kind of small for seven (or eight, assuming the victim lived here too) people, but cozy-looking and luxurious otherwise.

"That bitch _killed_ her!" snapped the first man to make it to Nick. "I want her arrested!"

Two others, right at his heels, nodded in agreement, muttering angrily. One of them shook what looked like a rolling pin and stomped his foot in the grass. The others, slower, were sobbing too hard to talk properly. Even the first three -apparently fuming and out for blood- had swollen, puffy eyes, like they'd been crying.

"All right, all right." Nick held up his hands. "One at a time. What happened here?"

"Got a call in," read Sergeant Wu; " _Young girl,_ Bianca Snowlight _, age fifteen, living with her seven uncles_ , found dead less than an hour ago."

The uncles, still muttering about wanting some woman dead, led Hank, Nick, and Wu into the house, past a darkened living room with evergreen curtains, up a staircase, and into a pink bedroom where a girl's body was sprawled across the rose-and-snowflake patterned comforter.

"God," whispered one of the uncles. "She was so beautiful."

The girl had long dark hair, black but with dyed red-tinged streaks, fanning out around her corpse. Her skin, in death, was ashy white. There were no other marks on her body, or cuts to suggest how she'd gone.

"Poisoning?" Hank wondered aloud.

The oldest uncle, who indentified himself as Asher Dwarton, gritted his teeth. "Gee, you _think_?"

"Usually," the next brother whispered to Sergeant Wu, "he's got the nicest disposition. He wouldn't dream of scolding the police like this... But this is hitting him - _all_ of us- really hard."

"That's understandable, Sir," Hank cut in. "But please cooperate. We only want to help."

"You can _help_ ," snapped Asher, "by arresting the psychotic bitch that did this."

"You have an idea who it was," Hank noted.

"No, we _know_ who it was," choked the youngest uncle.

"It was her stepmother..." another one chimed in softly.

"Name?" Hank pulled out a notepad and pen.

"August Applesmith." Asher shook his head angrily. "You know, that woman is the reason Bianca lived with us, instead of with her father. She's always seen her as a threat."

"Her father is...your brother...?" Hank asked.

"No, thank God," growled Asher. "He's an idiot. No, we're her mother's brothers. She passed away five years ago. In a car crash. Bianca was only ten when it happened. I don't think she really... _understood_..."

Nick went closer to the body and realized something. No, it couldn't be... _Could_ it? He put two gloved fingers to her neck, feeling the slightest trace of a pulse. "Oh my god." Apparently it _could_ be. "Hank, she's still alive."

A shocked, collective murmur went through all seven uncles almost in a straight line.

Wu spoke rapidly into a walkie-talkie. "We need paramedics down here immediately."

"She's breathing," Hank noted, bending down next to Nick and feeling Bianca's pulse for himself. "But just barely. She's fading fast."

"Well, _do_ something," Asher urged, wringing his hands. "Lift her up... Make her breathe!"

" _Sir_ ," said Nick slowly, "take it easy. We'll do everything we can." Carefully he lifted up the girl's back, trying to get her to sit up. Maybe if they could help her regain consciousness...

Just then, a jittery, dark-haired young man -around nineteen or twenty- came running in.

"You can't be in here," Sergeant Wu told him, holding up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. "This is a police investigation."

"Bianca!" he cried, trying to push past Wu's arm. "God...Jesus... What happened?"

Asher gave him a withering look. "Look, Mate, this is not the time. I told you I didn't want you around here no more."

"Please, let me through," begged the man. "My name's Carl Fieri. I'm her boyfriend."

"You're not her boyfriend, you sick, junkie pervert." The strongest-looking uncle, with the whitest beard (almost a red-neck Santa), glared at him. "If you'd stayed away from her like we told you to, none of this would have ever happened."

"How dare you!" Carl finally succeeded in pushing past Wu, leaning forward like he was going to make a lunge for the uncle.

"Everyone calm down." Hank put his hand on his gun, just in case. "There's no need for this. The important thing now is to try and help her."

Carl made his way over to Nick, Hank, and Bianca. He only meant to help, not to fight, but then, in a moment of weakness, the surge overtook him and Nick saw him woge.

He was a dragon-like Wesen. _Daemonfeuer._

Both Hank and Carl seemed to register Nick's expression at the same time.

"Is he...?" began Hank.

"Sweet Jesus!" Carl stared at Nick in horror. "You're a...a..." A _Grimm_! "You..." He roughly snatched Bianca into his arms, as if to protect her. In his terror, he'd forgotten. Bianca wasn't Wesen. A Grimm wouldn't have any reason to harm her. "Don't hurt-"

"Take it easy!" Hank's gun was out now.

The jolt, however, had created a little miracle. Somehow, it had made Bianca vomit. A chunky slice of half-digested fruit (a peach? apple?) lay in a pool of brownish puke.

She gasped in air, coming back to life.

"Bianca!" Carl tightened his grip around her. "Oh thank god."

"Bianca," Nick said softly. "I'm with the police. The paramedics will be here soon."

"Arrest him," demanded Asher. "He and that stepmother of hers should both rot in jail."

"Whoa... Okay, what did we miss here?" asked Wu, confused. "Cuz all I saw was him trying to save her."

"He's corrupting a minor," Asher insisted. "He's way too old to date her. Thinks just because he can woo older woman at the drop of a hat, younger is all fine and dandy too."

"He's been having an affair with her stepmother for years," the Santa-like uncle added venomously, all but spitting in Carl's direction. "Now he's after Bianca."

"Carl..." moaned Bianca.

"I'm sorry, I have to go... You're safe here. He'll _kill_ me," he whispered into her hairline before kicking at Hank's legs and making a jump for the window. Sprays of human fat bubbled up hitting poor, unsuspecting Wu in the face when he tried to pursue him.

"Stay with Bianca and Wu!" Nick called, running out the door and down the stairs. "I'll get Carl!"

* * *

Chasing Carl was no easy task. For someone so scrawny-looking and jittery, he was as fast as a squirrel. In fact, if Nick hadn't seen him woge into a Daemonfeuer, he would have thought he was some kind of skittish, fast-running rodent Wesen.

Even in his increased state of skill and speed, Nick felt sure he was going to lose him. "Carl! Come back! I'm not going to hurt you, but we need to talk! You know what I am, I know what you are...I'm a detective...all I want is to figure out if Bianca's life is still in danger after this... I need you to come back to the station with me."

_Fat chance_ , thought Carl, currently curled up behind one of the trees only a few feet away from the spot where this horrible Grimm had almost caught up to him. _Like any Wesen would be that stupid..._

He jumped out from behind the tree, making a beeline away from Nick.

Nick saw him out of the corner of his eye and kept chasing.

Finally they came to an alleyway.

Carl set a fire with his human-fat breath to distract Nick and then dived into a dumpster.

The fire, an insubstantial thing, died out quickly and Nick was ready to resume the chase. Carl didn't get far, he was sure of that. The kid wasn't that smart. If he _was_ , he would have kept running. But Nick was somehow positive the kid was trying to hide, making whatever was available a makeshift dragon's lair. One of the dumpsters was the obvious conclusion. _Which_ one? There was the trickier part...

Suddenly, a grunt and scream rang out from the other side of the alleyway. Two slimmer figures, which appeared to be female, were fighting off a bulkier one in a hooded black cape.

"Take that!" one of the woman beings did a roundhouse kick that clipped the forehead of the cape-wearing man-thing.

Nick came closer. "Hey, stop right there." He flashed his badge. " _Police_!"

The hooded man punched the woman opposite to the one who'd clipped him in the jaw, knocking her down.

The woman rolled and pulled what Nick now saw was a crossbow on the hooded guy. "Let me go, or I'll nail your Reaper brains to the effing wall."

_Reaper..._ Getting closer, Nick had realized the hooded man was holding a scythe.

"Oh, look, another Grimm with a death wish," the reaper taunted, his eyes darting from the woman with the crossbow to Nick with his badge and gun.

The woman who'd clipped him spat up something in his face and breathed fire.

Nick almost choked on his own spit. Oh come the heck _on_! _Two_ Daemonfeuer in one day? What were the odds of that happening?

Yet here she was, this Daemonfeuer woman, in full woge, charging at the reaper.

Before Nick could think what to do next, the reaper was dead and the Daemonfeuer was looking up at him, her face shifting back to it's human-like form.

It was no stranger. He'd met this girl before. Except, she was supposed to be _dead_...

" _Ariel_?" gasped Nick. "Ariel Eberthart?"

She grinned, in that crazy way of hers, almost leering. "Hello again, Handsome."

"You're..."

"Alive?" She laughed, flicking back her hair. "Yeah, I know. Shocking, isn't it? Long time no see." She gestured at the dead Reaper. "You're welcome, by the way." With that, she disappeared into a smog-like mist Nick wasn't convinced she didn't somehow make herself.

"Ariel, _wait_..." a voice called after her.

But it wasn't Nick's. The woman on the ground slowly started to get up.

Nick ran over to help her, the reaper's words finally registering in his mind. _Oh, look, another Grimm with a death wish..._

Another Grimm...

And if he hadn't meant _Ariel_ , the reaper must have meant this woman...

Nick gaped at her as she slipped out of his grip, taking her in. She was like him! A Grimm, in Portland. Since his mother left, he hadn't had another Grimm to talk to. He'd heard rumors of others like him, sure, but seeing one - _meeting_ one- in person was completely different.

This tough, disheveled, brown-haired woman, dressed in leather and lace, scratches on her cheeks, just fighting side-by-side with a Daemonfeuer, was like...like... _kin_... It was like looking into a funhouse mirror. Nick looked at her and saw a vaguely distorted version of himself.

"I didn't know there were any other Grimms in Portland," she said, kind of quietly.

Nick breathed out, just realizing he'd been holding his breath. "Neither did I."

"Nice to meet you." She rubbed at a sore spot near her hip.

"Likewise."

"What's your name?"

"Nick," he told her. "What about you?"

"I'm Gretel."

* * *

A few blocks away, Ariel Eberhart was meeting someone at a cafe. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom and then walked over to his table. "Hey, Cuz. Still trying to kill your brain cells with Jay?"

"Not funny, Ariel." Carl glared at her over a mug of tea his badly shaking hands were barely able to keep their grip on.

"Aw, come on, I'm just messing with you." Ariel pouted and took a seat across from him. "You're my cousin, you _know_ I love you even when you're high as flaming kite."

"Whatever. I'm getting clean," he said to his tea. "I have to. For Bianca."

"Come on, that's never going to work out."

"Will so."

"She doesn't even know what you are."

"She almost died today." He sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand against his nostrils. "She almost died, and I had to leave her there, all alone. One day it's going to be different. One day I'm going to tell her everything and-"

"And _what_?" Ariel prompted, shaking her head. "She'll understand and her uncles will just let bygones be bygones? I think you've got to slow down on the doses of Jay you're taking. No judgment, but you're starting to sound like a crazy person."

"Next time she needs me, that Grimm won't stand in my way."

"What Grimm?" Ariel asked, leaning forward. "Do tell."

Carl noticed a red mark on her chin and a spot of blood near one of her eyebrows. "You been in a fight?"

"Yes, with a Grimm, ironically enough."

"You fought a Grimm?" And he'd just _run_ from his...

"No, no, you silly, I fought _with_ a Grimm. Against one of those stupid Reapers."

"Ew, _why_?" He blew on his tea.

"I have my reasons."

"I say let the Reapers kill them all."

"Bite your tongue," sighed Ariel, clicking hers emphatically.

"So how many are there?"

"You mean Grimms? Here in Portland? Well, one girl and one guy. The guy's been here a long time." Ariel smirked, almost dreamily. "He's the one who helped my father."

"He doesn't happen to be a cop, does he?"

" _Yep_..." Ariel waved at one of the waiters, trying to get some tea for herself.

"I think that's my Grimm."

"Aw, you were scared of Nick?" she cooed.

"Of course I was!"

"Aw, he's not so bad."

"What do you think he'll do to me?"

Ariel snorted. "Nothing. If he comes after anyone, it'll be me."

"You kidnapped his girlfriend or something, right?"

"He has a hard time letting things go." A waiter put a cup down in front of her. "Thank you." She blew on the hot beverage. "Grimms and their silly grudges."

"And you're not even a little scared of him?"

She cocked her head. "Course not. He's the one who's scared of _me_. I _baffle_ him just by being alive."

"Well, let's just hope you're right, Cuz." Carl shuddered. "No offense, but if you'd kidnapped _Bianca_ , and _I_ was a Grimm, I'd be coming after you with an ax."

"Hmm." Ariel licked her lips playfully. "Guess I'd better sleep with one eye open."


	2. Grimms Of A Feather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make Ben an Eisbiber (beaver Wesen), because COME ON, let's face it, in the Grimm world that's TOTALLY what he would be! Ditto Edward as a Hasslich, though that one was just a given...

Chapter 2: Grimms Of A Feather

" _Great_ ," moaned Nick, throwing back the lids of dumpsters as he walked through the alley. "Daemonfeuer got away."

Gretel, a few steps behind him, echoed, " _Daemonfeuer_?"

Nick stopped, waiting for her, leaning against the last dumpster.

"Oh, no, it's okay. She's on our side." She bent down and pulled a small dagger out of her boot; it had gotten dislodged from its sheath during the fight with the reaper and nearly cut her. "For now, anyway."

Nick practically had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out that Ariel could burn in hell for all he cared. After all, she'd put Juliette, who hadn't even _known_ about the whole Grimm thing back then, in danger. There were some things that were hard to simply forgive and forget. Especially when it came to the people that you loved.

Instead, the tired detective just shook his head. "I wasn't talking about Ariel Eberhart." He sighed. "There was another one. I was chasing him this way when...when I saw you fighting the Reaper."

"I didn't see anyone else..."

"Well, you were a little preoccupied," Nick pointed out, shrugging one shoulder. "I think he hid in one of the dumpsters and took off when I got distracted. Actually, I think I heard him leave..." These pesky new senses of his! He sometimes felt things, knew things, without realizing it until it was too late. What was the good of super hearing if you didn't figure out what you'd heard -or _were_ hearing- until _after_ the fact? "I was just... Just kind of surprised to see...I mean not only Ariel alive after over two years of thinking she was dead... But...another Grimm..."

"I'm sorry about my little scrimmage with that Reaper getting in your way," Gretel said. "You probably think I'm crazy, fighting alongside a Daemonfeuer instead of cutting her head off."

"No, I get it," Nick said. "Two heads are better than one. And if she wasn't threatening you and the Reaper _was_..." Common sense.

"Your average Grimm wouldn't think like that."

"I guess I'm not your average Grimm, then." He smiled.

"No." Gretel found herself smiling back. "I suppose not."

"I guess I better get back to the precinct and tell the Captain what happened."

Gretel noticed his badge for the first time. "You're a cop."

"Homicide detective."

" _And_ a Grimm." She looked somewhere between overwhelmed and impressed. "Wow, I can't even imagine how hard that must..."

"Sometimes it is," Nick agreed. "Mostly when I have to explain things to normal people without using the word _Wesen_."

"Well, good luck." Gretel's smile began to wane. She was stepping back into the darker corners of the alley, rubbing the sides of her leather-clad arms, either for relief from soreness or cold.

"Hey, what are you going to do?" Nick asked, concerned.

"Oh, you know, things." Gretel swallowed and pushed a piece of hair behind one ear nervously.

"Okay." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card with his name and number on it. "If you need anything..." A slight tingle ran through the tips of Nick's fingers as Gretel's brushed against them, reaching for the card. "Or if you see any more Reapers and Ariel doesn't feel like playing sidekick..."

"Thanks, Nick."

"We're both Grimms who don't want to cut off the heads of every Wesen we meet. Something of a rare combination," he pointed out. " I guess that makes us kind of responsible for each other." Now that she was holding the card, he pulled his hand away. "Like family."

The very idea of _any_ sort of extended family was sweet in Nick's mind. Sweeter even than a house of candy... It had been a long, long time since he'd had any family. Yeah, having great friends like Monroe, Rosalee, and Hank (and, of course, Juliette's loving support) made it a little easier to bear, but this would be kind of nice, too. Gretel could be like a long lost cousin, almost.

Maybe that was why he didn't want to just leave her in an alley like this... "Are you doing anything for lunch?"

"No," she said softly. "Why?"

"Well, if the precinct wants to be generous and give me an hour off for lunch, I thought maybe you'd like to grab a burger." Nick wondered if it would be impolite to mention he'd heard her stomach growling a couple of times during their short conversation. Apparently not all Grimms were lucky enough to find steady paying work.

"Sure," said Gretel. "There's actually a diner not far from here. Down the street, take a left, right on the curb. Can't miss it. I could meet you there around one, if you want."

"Yeah, sounds great." Nick took out his now vibrating phone. "I'm fine, Hank. I lost Carl. I'm on my way back now." Looking back over his shoulder, he waved to Gretel, who was busy resuming sinking into the alleyway shadows.

* * *

Back at the precinct, Sergeant Wu was having a less than pleasant time trying to keep Asher Dwarton and August Applesmith from each other's throats. It was like he imagined being a body guard for _The Jerry Springer Show_ would be. Except, in his personal case, his small Asian frame wasn't quite up to the task. Luckily, neither Asher nor August were all that big. Well, Bianca's stepmother _was_ on the tallish side, but there was no muscle to her; her limbs were willowy and delicate. If Wu hadn't stepped between them, Asher probably could have taken her down with a single blow.

Hank was getting involved, prepared to begin leading August off to an integration room -Wu now holding his arm out in front of Asher to keep him back- when Nick walked through the doors.

"Oh, thank God," Hank muttered flatly, relieved he didn't have to interrogate August by himself.

Then he noticed the look on Nick's face, all bemused and dazed. Could he really be this out of it just from one allegedly druggie Daemonfeuer getting away? Or had something else happened?

Asher reached over Wu's arm and yanked the back of August's hair.

"He's assaulting me, I want his ass arrested!" August protested in a high shrill.

" _Really_?" Wu moaned, taking a step forward, pushing a still fuming Asher Dwarton further back. These guys were worse than a couple of _children_!

"Nick," Hank said, looking over at his partner with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah...fine..." He shook off the lingering thoughts of his morning discovery. He'd think about Gretel later, at a more appropriate time.

"What happened to you, man?"

"You mean how did I let Carl get away?"

"No. You just seem..." Hank chuckled. "You're almost... _glowing_..."

"I am not _glowing_ ," snorted Nick.

"Yeah you are," Hank teased, studying his partner's beaming face curiously. "What's up with you?"

"Dwarton's looking at me threateningly!" August shrieked, waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air dramatically. "I want to press charges. I feel threatened!"

"Can we please talk about this later? Right now we've got a job to do," Nick said, gesturing over at August.

* * *

"How would you describe your relationship with your stepdaughter?" Hank asked.

August shifted in her chair. "No worse than most."

"I've noticed Bianca uses her mother's maiden name?" Nick said, looking up from some paperwork. "Are you and Mr. Applesmith... _okay_...with that arrangement?"

"Are you asking me if either my husband or I could have been resentful enough of the fact that Bianca moved in with her mother's brothers that we'd poison her with chunky fruit pie?"

"Ma'am," said Hank tiredly, "all we're trying to do is our job. Please answer the question."

"No," she said. "No, neither of us would ever do anything that terrible. Why don't you ask Asher Dwarton? He's probably covering up for someone. He's always wanted to see _me_ locked up, so I bet he-"

Nick, looking up again during a moment of betrayed emotion, saw August's face change from a very attractive woman to a hag with rotting skin and razor sharp teeth, glaring at him with practically _gleaming_ reddish eyes. _Hexenbiest._

"A _Grimm_!" Stopping mid-sentence, August jumped up, flinging her chair backwards. "Don't hurt me! If you kill me, you'll go to jail forever. I swear it. My husband, he'll-"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Nick sighed. He was starting to get a little tired of every new Wesen reacting to him this way. But, at the same time, kind of used to it. He wondered if it was this way for all Grimms. Did it ever get tedious for his ancestors? Or maybe, with all their head-chopping, no Wesen/Grimm conversation had ever gotten far enough along for that to even be a real issue. "I just want to find out who poisoned Bianca."

"Well, _I_ didn't." She sat back down and folded her arms across her chest.

Nick noticed that, now that he wasn't an immediate threat, this vain Hexenbiest was busy looking over his shoulder at the mirror, trying to fix her long, voluminous hair.

"Mr. Dwarton claims you and your stepdaughter were in a romantic relationship with the same young man," Hank told August, leaning forward, trying to get her attention away from the mirror. "Carl Fieri."

"Are you suggesting I'm having an affair with that...that _boy_?" Her eyes snapped away from the mirror, glaring at Hank.

" _Are_ you?" Nick raised an eyebrow at her.

"You're a sick-minded son of a bitch." August actually _let_ him see her woge this time.

Hank, who could see it as well now, blanched and winced automatically. It was always kind of disturbing to see a pretty woman turn into _that_.

"That doesn't answer my question," said Nick.

" _No_ ," she growled, her human face coming back. "Of _course_ not."

* * *

Gretel could feel the Bauerschwein's lusty little pig-eyes on her the second she walked into the diner. She wished her brother was with her. Not because she couldn't take care of herself; she could look after herself just fine (even the weakest woman in the world, as far as Gretel was concerned, should be a match for a dead-drunk-before-two Bauerschwein perv, and if she wasn't, well, she should just shoot herself and have done with it), but she didn't _feel_ like teaching this walking bacon factory some manners just now. She wanted Hansel here to kick his sorry pork ass for her. Or maybe she just wanted him _here_ , period. Maybe she just missed him, worried for him, too much.

Regardless, still tired from her fight with the Reaper, all Gretel wanted to do was sit down and wait for the Grimm in peace.

It was five of one. Surely five bloody minutes of tranquility couldn't be too much to ask for? Surely she deserved _that_ much...

Nick _had_ said he'd meet her at one, right? Frankly, Gretel had been so overwhelmed she was having trouble remembering the encounter -the complete conversation- with full clarity. The adrenaline rush to her head had sent her mind spinning. It had only stayed still long enough for her warning about sending her arrow into that damn Reaper's soon-to-be corpse to have been a real threat. She'd have done it, and hit him dead-on, if Ariel hadn't finished him off.

She looked at the card he'd given her. Nick was lucky to have that policeman badge of his. Gretel wished _she_ had a badge to wave in annoying peoples' faces (Wesen or otherwise) when they got uncomfortably close to her.

"I think I need a drink," Gretel decided aloud, walking over to the bar. She didn't have a lot of money on her, and she knew she shouldn't waste it, but with the way that stupid pig was looking at her, she wasn't going to get her peace and quiet, so this was her consolation price. Fair enough. If she had to teach him a lesson, there was no reason to do so with a parched throat.

The Bauerschwein was swaggering towards her like he thought he was God's gift to women.

 _Please let him figure out I'm an effing_ Grimm _and leave me the hell alone_ , Gretel silently prayed, slapping her precious last dollars down on the counter and sliding them across to the guy behind the grill-and-bar.

"Hey, girly."

Gretel wanted to vomit. She grabbed her drink the second the man behind the grill-and-bar put it down, chugging. Sadly, not even alcohol could make his unwitting woge revealed to her Grimm sense less repulsive. He was just so...so...disgusting...

"You look roughed up, Baby."

 _Maybe if I ignore him..._ She stared at her now half-empty glass like it was utterly fascinating.

He was getting so close to her that she could smell his breath and feel the stink of his body heat radiating off of him. "That's okay," he slurred with puckered lips. "I _like_ 'em dirty."

_Don't touch me..._

He reached out and grabbed her upper arm.

She shook out of his grip. "Don't." _You_ still _don't know what I am? How are you nasty little piggies not_ extinct _?_ Then Gretel remembered something Hansel had told her once. Not all Bauerschwein were as scared of the Grimms as they should be. Maybe because, compared to other kinds of Wesen, Grimms didn't have such a long history of chopping up ham-heads for the hell of it.

"Don't be like that..." With his other hand, the Bauerschwein made his fatal mistake, he reached to cup one of Gretel's breasts.

* * *

Monroe was minding his own business, picking up a couple of hot grilled cheese sandwiches and an order of home-stye fries to go, when Nick walked into the diner, ringing the bells on the door as he entered.

"Hey." Monroe grabbed the bag the man behind the bar-and-grill handed him and went to greet his friend on the way out. "What are you doing here?"

"Meeting someone," Nick told him, looking around expectantly for Gretel. He didn't see her yet... Was he too early?

"Is it Juliette?"

"No, she's either at work or finishing that gingerbread house back in the kitchen." He looked both ways, leaned in, and lowered his voice. "I'm actually meeting another Grimm here."

" _Dude_!" Monroe's eyes widened, his mouth gaping slightly. "There's another Grimm here in Portland?"

Nick nodded, brow raised.

"When did you find this out?"

"A few hours ago."

"Wow..." This was big news...

"I know."

"What's he like?" Monroe looked a little anxious, looking around the bar stools, wondering if any of the people there could be a Grimm trying to keep a low profile.

" _She_ , actually."

"A female Grimm."

"Like my mom and Aunt Marie."

"Wow..." Monroe mused. "This is...wow..." He looked over his shoulder, then back at Nick. "Is this girl... I mean, is she one of those hardcore, kill the Wesen, ask questions later or...?"

"I don't know," Nick whispered. "I didn't get to talk to her long. But she seemed more like...well, me." He leaned in a little closer. "She was working with a Daemonfeuer against a Reaper this morning."

"And so the plot thickens," Monroe said, a little nervously, clutching the paper bag tighter. "Listen; be safe, and enjoy your meal with the Grimm. I've gotta get these sandwiches back to Rosalee like I promised. We're taking inventory at the spice shop, and we were getting kind of hungry so..."

Nick held up a hand. "Enough said. I'll be fine. See you later."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, go on. Rosalee's probably wondering where you are."

From the other side of the bar there suddenly came a squealing yelp. A young woman's forehead went smashing down on a fat guy's face in a forceful headbutt that knocked him to the ground with a bleeding nose.

She looked down at him, scowling pitilessly. "That was a _warning_. Next time you touch me -or any other innocent woman- like that, I won't just _break_ it. I'll bite it right off your effing face."

"Yeah, that's it, you _tell_ him!" Monroe called out approvingly. He'd seen this Bauerschwein jerk at various bars in the area, trying to make passes at women's behinds and chests; it was about time someone stood up to him!

Nick was turning a little red in the face, putting his hand to his forehead. "That's her."

The same minute Nick told him, Monroe felt sure that the girl who'd just bloodied the Bauerschwein's nose -looking up in his direction as soon as he spoke- knew him for what he was. " _Dude._ "

* * *

"Here you go." Nick handed Gretel a hot dog in tinfoil and a small package of fries in a cardboard holder while the street vendor counted his money.

Gretel choked back a nervous laugh and peeled back the tinfoil. "Thank you."

"No problem." He shrugged. "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry about getting us kicked out of the diner." Gretel took a bite and swallowed, following Nick as he started walking down the street.

He turned to look at her, ready to slow his pace, only to realize she was keeping up just fine. "It's fine. That pig deserved it."

"I know," Gretel sighed. "But for some reason blood all over the floor always makes restaurant owners uncomfortable."

Nick chuckled at that. "Does this kind of thing happen to you in a lot of restaurants?"

"Often enough."

"I see."

"It doesn't happen to you?" Gretel asked.

"I try not to let it. My girlfriend gets upset when I ruin our diner reservations. Besides, a lot of the Wesen here stay their distance pretty well when there's not a crime involved. If one of them attacks me, it usually means something deeper is going on."

"That man," Gretel said thoughtfully, "the one who shouted out when I knocked down the Bauerschwein... You know he was a Blutbad?" She paused. "I mean, I just met you, I don't know how strong your... _abilities_...are yet...so..."

Nick smiled. "Yeah, that's Monroe, he's a friend of mine."

"You're friends with a Blutbad." It was a statement, not a question.

He tried to answer anyway, with a small nod. "You have a problem with that?"

"No," she said. "Not at all. It's funny... I actually have a very good friend who's an Eisbiber."

"Me too," Nick admitted. "His name's Bud. He was -well, still _is_ , I guess, God forbid the thing breaks down again- my refrigerator repairman."

" _My_ Eisbiber is named Ben," Gretel told him. "He's a little obsessed with us."

"Us?" Nick repeated. "As in Grimms?"

Gretel nodded a little sheepishly, like her friend's Grimm fascination embarrassed her. "Yeah, he collects all this data and knows all this weird stuff about our lives... It's a little weird, but he's a good kid. He wouldn't hurt anyone, or give the information away." She sighed to herself. "Though, it _was_ a little unnerving the first time I saw a poster of me on his bedroom wall."

An inappropriately loud burst of laughter escaped Nick, startling a grumpy old lady at a bus stop they passed. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"My brother doesn't have much patience for him," Gretel went on. "Or _any_ Wesen, really. But, deep down, I think they were starting to grow on each other."

Nick stopped. "Wait, you have a brother?"

"Yes." She stopped too. "Why did we stop?"

"He's like... _us_...?"

"Of course."

"Is he...here...in Portland?"

Gretel bit onto her lower lip and inhaled sharply, holding back tears only someone in close range would have even noticed were forming. "I don't think so."

"What happened to him?"

She swallowed hard. "I don't know. We were fighting a Hexenbiest in Seattle... It was raining...really hard...lightning striking everywhere. Something went wrong. I remember the Hexenbiest making a grab for my throat, Hansel trying to protect me by ripping her claws off my neck... Then it was dark, I don't know how long this lasted, but I didn't see or hear anything... Until there were these gasps and moans...and I knew it was my brother... He's a diabetic; he needs to take insulin every few hours or he'll die. He needed it and it was out of his reach and I tried to crawl over to him, there was blood on my arm and on my neck, and another puddle of blood that _wasn't_ mine..." She stopped for a moment, closing her eyes, either unable to go on or simply just trying to remember what happened. "Something snatched him away from me. It got to him before I did." She reached into a small leather pouch attached to the side of her coat, fingering a small item she had stored in there. "I have his insulin needle; they left that behind."

"And what happened after that?"

She blinked and inhaled sharply. "A friend helped me heal up. Edward, a Hasslich; he took care of me until I was better. By then, Hansel and whoever took him..." She pulled her lips in tightly, then exhaled. "They were long gone."

"Do you think he's...?" Nick didn't want to say _dead_...but...

"I should," Gretel said quietly, looking down at her hands. "I know I should..."

Nick noticed a bench less than a foot away, and sat, still listening to the rest of Gretel's story as her eyes drifted from her hands over to him again.

"But I don't." She sucked her teeth defiantly. "We shared a womb. We're twins, inseparable from birth." Shaking her head, as if at herself, Gretel sat down beside him. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I _feel_ him... I sense his heartbeat like we're still children lying in a cradle so small there's not even room to turn and you feel every breath...

"I know Hansel can't live without the insulin, and I can't imagine a way he could have survived, but I feel like I'd _know_ if he was dead." She rested her hands on her knees. "Because a big part of me would be, too."

"I'm so sorry." Nick knew only too well what it was like to lose -or be threatened with the loss of- someone that close to you. Not even the worst beatings he'd ever taken had hurt as much as that.

"Me too." She smiled weakly over at him.

This time, Nick actually thought she might cry for real, so he reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing gently. "It's all right. You're not alone now. Who knows, maybe we can find your brother. Maybe I can help somehow."

The warmth of his hand comforted her and she squeezed back before pulling away and tucking it into the pouch again. "I'd like that," she said, "but I don't know what you can do. I've been searching for almost three months now. And I didn't come to Portland because I thought he was here. I thought it was just me. _Alone_."

This - _Portland_ \- was almost where she came to _give up_ , Nick realized. To give up without quitting for _real_. Which her sense of his still being alive wouldn't allow her to do, no matter how strong the temptation got.

"How did you get mixed up with Ariel?" Nick wanted to know.

"It's a long story," Gretel said, with a half-shrug. "Hansel wouldn't have trusted her as far as he could spit. _Daemonfeuer women act too much like a Hexenbiest for comfort_ , he always says." Her voice cracked a little as she tried to deepen it to sound like her missing brother. "But _I_ trusted her. To a point. And she saved my life." She looked at Nick pointedly. "I mean, you saw it."

"And the Reaper?"

"I don't know how he found me."

"You should just do what I did the last time they came after me."

"And what's that?" She sounded curious.

"Cut off their heads and send them back to headquarters."

She grinned. "You really did that?"

"Monroe helped some," he admitted. "But _I_ killed them first."

"Both?" Gretel sounded impressed. "By yourself?"

He tried to look modest, mostly failing. "Yes."

"Usually, Hansel and I are match for any Reapers they send after us, but we never went solo. I don't know what I would have done without Ariel's help. I probably could have handled him by myself, I've had enough practice, but it's nice in a way that I didn't have to find out."

"Why did she run off?"

"Ariel? I don't know."

"I hope she doesn't come back."

"I don't really care either way." Gretel pushed her braided hair back over her shoulder. "But it was good to have a friend again."

"Hey," said Nick gently, catching her sad gaze. "You have more than one."

* * *

Juliette was walking out of a health food store (she'd made a pit-stop on her lunch break) carrying a paper grocery bag when she realized she had forgotten to call Nick and ask what he wanted for supper.

She struggled to hold the bag with one arm and take out her iphone with the other. Her eye happened to look up, across the street, as soon as she'd managed it, her thumb hovering over her contact list, and she caught a glimpse of Nick himself.

What was he doing out of work? Well, that certainly made it a little easier, if nothing else. She could just walk over there and ask him what he wanted. She dropped the phone back into her coat pocket and got a better grip on the bag.

That was when she saw it.

Nick wasn't alone. There was a woman with him. A pretty one, dressed in disturbingly skin-tight leather.

Could she be someone he was interviewing on a case? If so, why was he alone? Why wasn't Hank or Sergeant Wu there with him?

The woman said something, and Nick reached out and held her hand.

Even from across the street, Juliette could see the tenderness in his expression. A small stab of jealousy pricked at her, and she stiffened. Who _was_ this woman and why was Nick holding her hand?

Juliette willed herself to think rationally. Not too long ago, she'd been a little on edge when she found an email of Nick's stating that someone called " _M_ " loved him, only to find out it was his dead mother. Who wasn't really dead after all...

This could be just like that, couldn't it?

Except, _this_ woman was _clearly_ not his mother. She might have looked a little like Nick in her coloring and mannerisms, but she was way too young to be his mother. Did he have a sister or cousin she didn't know about? He'd said no more secrets; he'd promised to tell her everything, now that she knew -and believed- about him being a Grimm.

But he hadn't told her about whoever _this_ was...

 _I could go right over there_ , Juliette reminded herself. _I could go right now and introduce myself. I'm sure there's an obvious explanation._

Still, she didn't like the gentle -almost _lovestruck_ \- way Nick was looking at this leathery Bond-girl type chick.

No, she'd confront him at home. Not here.

And as for supper? She could call later. _Maybe_. There was no rush. He _obviously_ had some time to spare he hadn't mentioned earlier...

* * *

"Did your parents really name you _Hansel and Gretel_?" Nick asked, as he rolled the car to a stop at a yellow light. Hansel and Gretel the Grimms? Was that supposed to be _funny_?

"Yeah, I guess our father was into the precious-sounding names," Gretel said, leaning her head back on the seat. "Or maybe it was our mother."

"You don't know?" The light changed and Nick put his foot down on the gas.

"No. Sometimes I wish I did." Gretel turned her head, still leaning, to look at the lights of Portland bouncing off the window.

"Did something happen to them?" Even though Gretel wasn't looking at him, Nick could see her reflection in the glass out of the corner of his eye, and he _knew_ that expression. It was the same one he used to have when talking about his parents. Back before he knew his only _one_ of them had actually died.

"They left us," Gretel told him.

"Left you?"

"Me, Hansel... One night we were in our room, sleeping, because it was really late, and our father came in, grabbed us, literally drove us to the middle of nowhere and just _left_."

" _God_."

"God had nothing to do with it," Gretel murmured, almost more to herself than to Nick. "Hansel thinks it was our mother's idea." She turned away from the window, looking at him again now. "He said he heard her talking to him, outside our room, before it happened. That _he_ wasn't really asleep."

"And you never found out _why_?" Nick turned a curb.

"Hansel didn't like to talk about it," she explained. "For years, I still had dreams about them most nights. When I woke up, my brother was the only person I had to turn to, but he wouldn't listen. He always made me stop. It was just too painful for him."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

Nick gestured at the windshield. "Where do you want to be dropped off? Is this close to where you're staying?"

Gretel looked down at the crossbow by her feet, and lied. "Yes. You can let me out here."

It was a decent street, quiet, with a nice-looking hotel just up the block. Nick put the car in park. "See you around."

Gretel undid her seat-belt and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. You still have my card. Call if you need anything."

"I will."

"Okay then."

"Bye." Gretel grabbed her crossbow, made sure her pouch was still attached to her coat, and got out, shutting the door behind her.

She stood there, on the sidewalk, waiting until his car disappeared from sight. And then she waited a few seconds longer, just in case. No, he really was gone. Time to get a move on. It was already dark, and she couldn't stay here.

At least the ride had helped _somewhat_. Now it was a shorter distance to Forest Hills than if she'd had to walk back from the street where they'd had hot dogs for lunch. Which was where she'd still been when Nick had gotten off his afternoon shift at the precinct. Why had she stayed? Maybe she was just tired. Or maybe she was hoping Ariel would come back and give her a better option than breaking into a trailer again tonight.

Whenever she went to the storage yard at Forest Hills, Gretel always broke into a different trailer, RV, or boat. Never the same one twice. And always ones that were obviously vacant -at least for the night.

That way, she was never caught.

Nick didn't know that she couldn't afford to stay even a fairly low-rate hotel, and when he'd seen her still sitting there, offering her a ride on his way home, Gretel decided not to refuse. He'd been good to her. Listening to her talk about her brother, and buying her lunch... And, most importantly, he was a Grimm, like her. She could trust him. And if not, if -God forbid- something went wrong, well, she'd just give him a taste of what the Bauerschwein had had earlier. Simple as that. Even Hansel would have thought accepting the ride was a good idea. He wouldn't want her wandering around Portland after dark any longer than she needed to. Too much chance to get into trouble. Or for trouble to _find_ her, even as she tried so hard to avoid it. And, in the dark, there were bound to be worse things on the street than a drunk Bauerschwein.

So here she was, walking down the street alone, looking over her shoulders, always on guard, but not really afraid. This was nothing. She'd faced worse. The truly awful part about walking alone after dark was the loneliness, not the fear. She missed Hansel more at moments like these. Gretel was never exactly a social butterfly, but that didn't mean she liked to be alone when things were getting dark and cold out.

Reaching the edge of the storage yard, Gretel stopped at a wire fence. She took off her coat, threw it over so her crossbow would have something soft to land on when she hurled it next, and then started to climb.

Once at the top, she swung her leg over and started to climb back down on the other side.

Two feet off the ground, she let go, landing on her feet.

Picking up her coat and throwing it back on haphazardly while her crossbow propped against a broken wooden crate for a few minutes, she scanned the nearest trailers for signs of vacancy.

It was a quiet night. No noise except the rattle of the nearby railway tracks. No one was watching her.

She finally decided on a small, fairly inconspicuous-looking trailer and made her way over smoothly and confidently. That way, even if somebody _did_ see her, she wouldn't _look_ like she was sneaking; they'd think she belonged here.

You didn't get abandoned by your parents at a young age without picking up some invaluable breaking and entering skills. Picking the lock was little more than child's play. Her fingers were getting numb, but Gretel remind herself that soon she'd be out of the wind, which -even if this trailer didn't have heat or a stove (like she hoped)- would be a _vast_ improvement on her current situation.

The door opened with a click and a creak.

" _Yes_!" Gretel heard herself mutter under her breath.

Walking in and shutting the door behind herself, she almost immediately began to wonder if she'd made a mistake.

Glass bottles full of liquids, some of them with German labels, lined counters and shelves. Books everywhere. Even a spot that looked like it had recently been used as a study-corner. Things piled up around that spot in a semicircle.

Needing to be certain, Gretel fast-walked to the wardrobe and flung it open. _Weapons_. Guns, a crossbow, an ax, a mace...

One of the books lay open on a table, when Gretel shut the wardrobe and whirled around, she saw the detailed drawing.

It was of a Wesen in full woge. " _Shit_!"

Oh, yes, she'd made a mistake, sure as hell.

She'd just broken into a fellow Grimm's trailer. _Sorry, Nick..._

* * *

"Juliette? I'm home."

Juliette was waiting for Nick as he came in the door. Arms crossed, she rose from the couch, turning around with a less than thrilled expression on her face. "You're late."

"Yeah, I had to drop someone off after work," Nick told her, taking off his coat. A warm aroma reached his nostrils; he sniffed. "Something smells _great_! Is that dinner?"

"Yes," Juliette said, a tense edge to her voice. "I was going to call and ask what you wanted, but you looked a little busy."

Nick was leaning in to kiss her when the words registered and she took a few steps back, tightening her still crossed arms. "Wait, what do you mean I _looked_ busy?"

"I was _hoping_ ," Juliette said pointedly, "that _you_ could tell _me_. I saw you this afternoon, sitting on a bench with some strange woman dressed like Charlie's Angels." Her arms uncrossed and one hand went to her hair as she flicked it back over her shoulder. "And..." A light snort escaped her. "Well, here's the really funny part...you..." (She didn't sound like she thought it was funny at all) "...you were _holding her hand_."

Nick's mouth formed a perfect _O_. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"I..."

"Nick, I'm _waiting_."

"Juliette, it's not what you think," he tried to assure her. "She's a _friend_. Her brother's missing; she was really upset, and I was just trying to comfort her."

"Ooh-kay..." She stared into his face like she was scanning it for lies. "If she's your friend, how come I've never met her?"

"Because _I_ just met her today."

"What?" Juliette hadn't expected that.

A smile broke onto Nick's previously defensive face, delighted to be able to share what was really going on with his girlfriend for once. "She's a _Grimm_."

"No way!" Juliette gasped. "That's..."

"I know," Nick laughed. "It's _mind-blowing_. I didn't think there was anyone else like me in Portland..."

Juliette grabbed his arm and led him over to the couch. "I can't wait to hear about it. What happened? How did you find her?"

"Well, it all started with this case that had me chasing a Daemonfeuer-"

" _Daemonfeur_ ," Juliette echoed. "That's the thing that kidnapped me, right? That crazy woman who died in the fire?"

Nick decided now might not be the best time to tell her Ariel was still alive. He had a story to finish. Besides, it would figure into the story in the right place. Or maybe he just wouldn't say _who_ the Daemonfeuer woman fighting alongside Gretel that morning had been...

 _That_ might be for the best.

At least for the time being, there was no need to worry Juliette about that crazy fire-breathing stalker coming back into their lives. She was already upset enough _without_ that.

"Yes," Nick said shortly, pressing on. " _Anyway_ , there I was, chasing this guy, and he jumps into a dumpster..."

* * *

After finishing the story of how he met Gretel, and having a lovely dinner of Juliette's fine cooking, Nick double-checked to make sure she was all right.

"I'm sorry if what you saw today upset you," he whispered, putting his arms around his girlfriend lovingly, pulling her close. "I just hope you know I would _never_ do anything to hurt you like that." He leaned close to her earlobe and neck. "I love you."

"I know," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I just... I couldn't process what I saw." She turned and put her arms around his neck. "But I should have had more faith in you."

"I was thinking of going down to the trailer tonight," Nick told her. "Looking up some Wesen facts for a couple hours." He played with a strand of her beautiful red hair. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Oh, Nick, I'd _love_ to, but I can't." Juliette looked over her shoulder back at the counter. "I have to make a couple more of those gingerbread houses for the fundraiser."

"I thought you were done," he protested.

"Well, I thought I was only going to have to make one but then a couple people at the office called to say their kids had the flu and they couldn't do it, so..."

"So we're stuck with a kitchen turned into a candy-house factory." Nick hoped he sounded playful and not venomous when he said that. It wasn't Juliette's fault. She didn't even _know_ about his creepy nightmares... There was no need to take it out on her.

"No," Juliette promised, "it won't be anything like that. Just a couple more houses, and a little less counter space until I can take them in."

"Well, I guess that's all right, then."

"Yeah, is that all right?" Juliette teased, kissing him on the mouth and tugging playfully at his shirt.

"I could stay here tonight," he murmured.

"As much fun as that sounds," Juliette sighed, "I don't think I'll get these gingerbread houses done if you _do_."

"I'll only be gone a couple of hours."

"Take your time."

"See you." He gave her a final peck on the cheek.

" _Love_ you."

* * *

For some reason, a light was on in the trailer. Nick put one hand on his gun, slowly walking up to the door and opening it.

It wasn't even _locked_. He knew _he_ hadn't left it like that. Who the hell had broken into the trailer _this_ time? What utter crap! Nick ground his teeth in frustration. Couldn't he just have _one_ normal night in his life? _One_ night where there wasn't conspiracy of traps and break-ins and Reapers and Wesen and everything but the kitchen sink?

Stepping in, Nick drew his gun and pointed it at the back of the trespasser. "Freeze!"

She whirled around, crossbow in hand, pointed in self-defense, breathing a sigh of relief when she recognized him. " _Nick_."

" _Gretel_." He lowered his gun.


	3. Hotel De Grimm

Chapter 3: Hotel De Grimm

"I realize I'm probably going to regret asking this question," Nick said dryly, "but _what_ are you doing here?"

Gretel lowered her crossbow. "I didn't know this was your trailer when I broke in."

"Why would you need-" Nick began, then stopped. "Ah. I get it. You lied about having a place to stay."

Gretel didn't answer that. She didn't _need_ to. It would be pointless to lie _now_...

Sighing, Nick walked right past her and started leafing through one of the books.

"Wait..." Gretel furrowed her brow. "That's _it_?" She turned and took a step closer to him. "I break into your trailer, and that's all you have to say?"

"Yep." He turned a page.

"So what," she asked, confused, "you're just going to pretend I'm not here?"

"For now, maybe." Nick shrugged.

"Fine." She took a deep breath and, after letting it out, chewed pensively on her lower lip. "I'll be gone by morning." She leaned her hip against the table and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're not staying here tonight," Nick told her, without even looking up from the book.

" _What_?" cried Gretel, her arms dropping to her sides. "Come _on_. You can't kick me out _now_ ; it's freezing."

"And dark," he added, unhelpfully.

"I'm not afraid of the dark, Nick."

Another page turn. "Maybe you should be."

Gretel started putting her coat on. "Goodnight, Nick." _Goodbye_ , Nick...

He looked up now. "Where are you going?"

She shrugged the leather coat the rest of the way over her shoulders. "I thought you said you didn't want me spending the night here."

"Yeah, I did." Nick put his thumb in the book to save the page, closing it. "And that's why you're going home with me when I'm done here."

"You're kidding," Gretel said flatly.

"Do I _look_ like I'm kidding?" He blinked at her, his expression dead serious.

"But you just can't-"

"It's not up for debate," Nick insisted. "I'm not leaving you here all night." He gestured at some of the other books. "But if you want to brush up on some Wesen history while you're waiting, be my guest."

Gretel nodded, turning and walking back towards the glass bottles, picking one up and reading the label, then setting it back down with a light _clink_. Looking back at Nick over her shoulder, she said, "You're really lucky to have all this stuff at your fingertips like this. Hansel and I had a hell of time getting supplies for our line of work."

Nick shuddered at the thought of having to go through everything he'd been through recently without the help of Aunt Marie's trailer. Maybe that was part of the reason he felt such pity and kinship towards Gretel, why he wasn't really mad at her for breaking in here. Gretel was, essentially, what _he_ would have been without his aunt. His mother had said once that girls usually became aware they were Grimms before boys. Nick wondered what it must have been like for Gretel, when she started seeing unexplainable things -changing faces, monsters- before her brother did. He must have thought she was going crazy. _She_ must have thought she was going crazy...

"I know," he said quietly.

"What are you looking at?" Gretel left the bottles and walked to where he was sitting, glancing over his shoulder at the book.

Craning his neck to look back at her, Nick lifted the book slightly. "How good's your German?"

Gretel cocked her head thoughtfully. " _Pretty_ good..."

"Read this," he ordered, twisting his torso and handing the book up to her.

"When you say _read_ it..." Gretel prompted, pausing for a moment.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Read it to _me_."

* * *

"So, this is it," Nick told Gretel, opening the front door, letting her in and flicking the light on.

Gretel set her crossbow down and took off her coat, revealing the lacy sleeves and criss-crossed bodice again.

It hadn't escaped Nick's attention that she dressed a little...well, _uniquely_...but he couldn't help but think that it didn't exactly help her blend in. With her attire, and apparent need to keep her crossbow more or less on her person most of the time, a Wesen -dangerous or frightened- could spy this female Grimm coming a mile away.

"My mother and aunt never told me the job was uniform," he commented.

Gretel looked down at her clothes, hung up her leather coat without being asked, and shrugged. "It's probably not, but this is how I've dressed almost my entire life. It's part of who and what I am."

"Nick?" Juliette's voice called as she came down the stairs. "Who are you talking t-" She stopped when she saw Gretel standing there. "Oh, _hi_..." Juliette suddenly felt a twinge of self-consciousness standing in her lingerie in front of this strange Grimm decked out in medieval couture. Why on earth had Nick brought her _here_? What was he doing with her at this hour in the first place? Had he been with her the whole time he'd said he was going to be at the trailer?

"Juliette, this is Gretel," Nick introduced them. "Gretel, this is my girlfriend Juliette."

"Nice to meet you." Gretel held out her hand.

Juliette shook it quickly, made herself smile, and say, "Likewise. I can't believe I'm meeting another Grimm," and then turned to Nick. "Hey, can I talk to you alone?" She indicated the kitchen with a tilt of her head and a brief eye-dart.

"Sure." Nick followed her, briefly looking back at Gretel over his shoulder. "Oh, by the way, the couch is all yours; make yourself at home."

As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Juliette demanded, "What's going on, Nick? Why did you bring her here?"

"Because..." Nick lowered his voice. "Because she has nowhere to stay."

"Every hotel in Portland happens to be booked solid?"

"Juliette, I don't think she can afford a hotel," Nick admitted. "She broke into the trailer."

Juliette's brow furrowed. "Wait, let me get this straight." She held up a hand, pausing. "She breaks into your aunt's trailer, and your first instinct is to bring her into your _house_?" Shouldn't he have at least _considered_ arresting her for breaking and entering, Grimm or no Grimm? How did Nick know he could _trust_ her? "What if she's working for someone?"

"You mean if she's looking for the key my aunt gave me?"

Juliette nodded pointedly.

"I don't think she's like that," Nick said. Gretel was a lot of things. Kick-ass, definitely. A little scary when she needed to be, maybe. But a liar? A traitor? Someone working for the royal families? Somehow the thought that that could be the case didn't settle right in Nick's mind. That story about her brother...it _had_ to be true...he'd seen the anguish on her face... _that_ wasn't a lie... "All I know is, she's a Grimm, the Reapers wanted her dead, and she's on her own for the moment. I couldn't just _leave_ her. We have to help her."

"You said yourself you just met her _today_ ," Juliette insisted. "How can you possibly trust her after just one day?"

Nick held up his hands in surrender. "I don't know." He knew it made no sense, that his opinion was built more on bizarre instinct and familial desire than logic, but that didn't mean it wasn't the truth; he trusted Gretel. "But I do."

Juliette winced.

"Hey, listen..." Nick reached for her, gently touching her arm and pulling her to him. "It's only going to be for a few days. I'm hoping I can help her find her brother. Nothing bad's going to happen, I promise."

"You're a big softie," she said quietly. "You know that?"

"Yeah..."

"You promise it's only for a few days?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "Then I guess I'm okay with it. Just... Just be careful, okay, Nick?"

"Sure." He pulled her into an embrace, rubbing her arms. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Hmm," she said, leaning into his hug. "I better be."

"I'm going to go upstairs and get some sleep." He let go of her and rubbed his eyelids. "Hank and I are probably going to have to visit Bianca Snowlight in the hospital tomorrow. The doctors say she's well enough to talk." Any poison the girl hadn't already vomited out didn't seem to be posing any further danger to her health; they were just keeping her for a few more days to be sure before they sent her back home with her uncles.

"Goodnight," Juliette said, leaning in and kissing him quickly.

"Night."

* * *

"So there's one thing I still don't get." Nick walked to the fridge and took out the milk. "If you and your brother don't kill every Wesen that looks at you sideways, then..." He got two bowls from the cupboard and sat down at the kitchen table across from Gretel, offering her one of the bowls. "Obviously you've been killing something. And I get the feeling it's not just Reapers. You mentioned your brother wouldn't trust a Daemonfeuer... Do you kill the ones that seem sly or..."

"Do you play fifty questions with all your guests before breakfast?" asked Gretel. Now that she wasn't cold, and faced with the prospect of sleeping in anything she could break into without being caught, answering every question that popped out of Nick's mouth no longer seemed like her number one priority.

"I'm sorry." Nick waited as she poured cereal into her bowl, then scooted the milk towards her, like a peace offering.

Gretel smiled. "It's okay." She stirred dry flakes and oats into the milk, letting it soak them. She'd always liked her cereal a little on the soggy side. Hansel was just the opposite; he'd liked his cereal as crunchy as humanly possible, with only the minimal amount of milk. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it..." She sighed, cocked her head, and rested her chin on the tip of her spoon for a second, thinking -about Hansel, about her past, about everything... "Mostly we kill Hexenbiests."

"Why?"

She lifted her chin. "Isn't it obvious? They hurt people, Nick. They're like demons or witches. They cast spells and spread poison. They don't even play fair with other _Wesen_ , let alone humans."

"So you and your brother, what, just ignored other Wesen if they didn't get in your way?"

"We work almost like bounty hunters," Gretel explained, bringing the spoon to her lips. "Though, honestly? I think Hansel would do this shit for free."

"You have an old grudge against them. Or one of them. Against a Hexenbiest."

Gretel pulled the spoon out of her mouth and dunked it back in the bowl. "What makes you say that?"

"Call it my Grimm instinct," Nick said dryly.

"We were almost killed by a Hexenbiest, after our parents abandoned us." Gretel shuddered at the memory. Nick was surprised by the vulnerable way her hand holding the spoon shook involuntarily, so quickly and slightly, he wasn't even sure she was aware of her body's brief betrayal. "That's why Hansel's a diabetic. She was trying to make something; a concoction of some kind only Hexenbiests would be..." She stopped and shook her head. "Anyway, it required the ' _blood of a child with sugar sickness_ '. She forced him to eat, threatened to slit my throat right in front of him if he didn't."

"What happened to her?" Nick wanted to know.

At that, Gretel smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. "We took care of her."

"Dare I ask _how_?" It wasn't that he didn't believe she could have done it -especially _now_ , seeing her as a grown woman- but it was hard to picture a little version of Gretel -a scared, lost girl without her parents, her brother's life threatened- taking on a powerful Hexenbiest.

"Let's just say," smirked Gretel, "if she'd had a funeral, there was no way it was going to be an open casket."

Before Nick could reply, Juliette came in, checking her watch. "Nick, don't you have to meet up with Hank so you can interview that girl today?"

Gretel stared down at her cereal. She wasn't completely sure _why_ , but she wasn't as comfortable with Juliette as she was with Nick. It wasn't that there was anything _wrong_ with her, not really... It was more that, well... She could tell Juliette didn't trust her.

Maybe, even, didn't _like_ her...

 _She doesn't even_ know _me_ , Gretel couldn't help mulling over in confusion. _So why does she look at me like that whenever Nick turns away?_

Nick got up and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. "You're right, I've got to run."

"Bye," Juliette murmured as he leaned in to kiss her on his way out.

"See you tonight," Nick told her. Then, over his shoulder, like he suddenly remembered Gretel was there, he added, "Oh, and I want to hear more about you and your brother's crusades against the Hexenbiests later."

"Yeah..." Gretel agreed distractedly, glancing up from her cereal bowl. The flakes were so soggy they were turning into milky tan-colored mush now. "Sure."

* * *

"Try your best to be brief," the nurse in pale green scrubs said, opening the door. "She's been through a lot."

"We will be," Hank promised, wondering, as she walked away, if he could get her number later when he was off-duty. That nurse was kind of cute. Dark curly hair, serious face with just the slightest twinge of humor around the full, pouting mouth... Not that he _needed_ another future ex-wife, but still.

Nick rolled his eyes and nudged his partner into Bianca's room.

"Hello there," said Hank gently, when he saw Bianca's eyes widen as they entered.

"Hi." She sat up against the flat white pillows.

"Bianca Snowlight," Nick said, "I'm Detective Burkhardt. This is my partner, Detective Griffin. We're just going to ask you a few questions, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Nick began.

"Yes." Bianca swallowed hard. "My uncles were out and the doorbell rang."

"Out where?" Hank asked. "Do you know?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, I don't. Work, maybe. Sometimes we only have two cars between the eight of us, so there's always a lot of car-pooling going on."

Nick and Hank nodded and waited for her to continue.

"Anyway, they'd told me not to answer the door for anyone, so I just looked out the upstairs window. Whoever it was, I didn't see them. But there was a package left out on the step so I thought, you know, mail or whatever. My uncles are always ordering weird stuff online, and sometimes my boyfriend sends me presents..." Her pale cheeks reddened.

"Your boyfriend Carl Fieri, is that correct?" Hank double-checked.

"Yes." She blinked and her eyes shifted from Hank to Nick. "You're the guys that arrested him, right?"

Nick coughed.

Hank shook his head. "No, Ma'am, he's not in our custody. He got away."

Bianca looked like she didn't know whether or not to be happy about this. "You know he didn't do anything wrong, right?" She scanned their faces anxiously for their reactions to this nugget of information.

"We will if you can help clear his name for us," Nick told her. "He's clearly not going to come forward on his own. He seems a bit spooked. Lying low for the time being."

Bianca sighed. "My uncles told me you had him locked up when they came to visit me." She sucked her teeth. "I hate it when they lie. They _always_ lie about him. Just because I'm only fifteen." Frowning, "I won't be _forever_ , you know."

"They seem to think Carl is in some kind of relationship with your stepmother."

She shook her head vehemently, like there was a bee caught between her ears. " _No_. They don't know him like I do. Carl would never do that. He loves _me_."

"Bianca, do you have any idea where Carl might be hiding out?" Nick asked. "We need to talk to him."

"No, you don't." She bit onto her lower lip. Releasing it, she mumbled, "He had nothing to do with this."

"Bianca..."

"I don't know, anyway." She folded her arms across her chest. "All I know is someone tried to poison me with a pie and my uncles want to use it as an excuse to lock up everyone they've ever distrusted. Carl, my stepmother... If they could get my dad thrown in the pokey, too, I'm sure they would." Reaching up and uncrossing her arms, Bianca tucked a piece of hair behind her left ear. "I love my uncles very, very much, but they get way paranoid when it comes to people trying to hurt me. I guess, now that someone actually _did_ , they'll _never_ let up."

"So you don't think August had anything to do with this?" Hank's eyebrows went up.

"Of _course_ not," she scoffed indignantly. "She's my _stepmother_. We don't get along, I can't live with her; she scares me sometimes, sure... But, come on, _murder_? August is too vain to kill anyone. She'd be way too worried about how unfashionable she'd look in an orange jumpsuit if she got caught. Besides, it would mean tearing her eyes away from a mirror long enough to plan it. Which she doesn't do. She has mirrors _everywhere_ back at my dad's house, even on the _ceiling_ ; it's really creepy."

"Thank you, that's all we need for now," Nick said, preparing to leave. "We'll let you rest."

As they left, shutting the door behind them, Hank whispered, "You think she's protecting either of them?"

"Carl, definitely," Nick agreed. "But we know he ran because I'm a Grimm, not because he was dodging the law. The thing is..." He looked back over his shoulder at the closed door. "...I just can't think of any reason why she'd want to protect August. There's clearly no love lost there. Bianca must really believe she's innocent."

"We know she's a Hexenbiest," Hank pointed out.

Nick shrugged. "That doesn't necessarily mean she tried to poison Bianca."

Not, of course, that Hexenbiests weren't _masters_ of poison. And of getting away with poisoning people. Look at what Adalind Schade did to Juliette with just a few ingredients and a really pissy cat not too long ago!

If Gretel were here, she'd probably just think Bianca was being naïve. If her _brother_ was, from all Gretel told him, Nick imagined he'd just cut off August's head and assume there was at least a 90% chance she deserved it.

However, as a detective, he had to handle this with a level of decorum the bounty-hunting Grimms didn't usually bother with. One thing was for sure: this case was _not_ going to be easy...

Then again, since that first day he saw Adalind woge -before he'd even known what Wesen _were_ \- had they _ever_ been?


	4. Fights & Picnics

Chapter 4: Fights & Picnics

Ordinarily, walking into his house only to see -and _hear_ \- a lamp shattering to smithereens was the sign of a pretty crappy day. Either the cherry on top, or just the start.

Today, though, it wasn't so bad. Maybe because it _wasn't_ a sign of Wesen apocalypse or of someone coming after him; Gretel's breaking it was a complete and total accident.

Apparently female Grimms couldn't sit still long, as Gretel had been in the living room stretching her muscles, throwing a few light half-kicks up into the air. She avoided anything breakable (like the T.V. for instance).

Or _tried_ to, anyway.

Over her own grunt as she put the weight of her hip into an air-punch, she hadn't heard Nick coming in and, startled to suddenly see him standing there, jumped back into what she thought was higher ground (or maybe just the couch), landing perfectly on her feet but also smashing her spine into a tall lamp right behind her.

She'd misjudged the distance and space during her automatic leap of self-preservation, off by a measly couple of inches.

Just enough to send the lamp crashing down behind her.

Gretel grimaced at Nick, then looked over her shoulder at the broken lamp. "I can replace that."

Nick chuckled and hung up his coat. "I doubt it."

It was true, actually. She couldn't even afford a place to stay, mooching off another Grimm. How could she possibly buy him a new lamp?

Gretel shook her head. "You're right."

Nick shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

A soft breath somewhere between a sigh of relief and a snort came out of Gretel in a low whistle.

"I do have one question for you, though," Nick told her.

"Yes?"

"What were you doing?"

"Keeping myself from getting rusty." Gretel found a small, pink two-pound weight Juliette had left on the side of couch -probably shortly after they first _got_ the house- and started using it absently. "You never know when you're going to have to tear out some Hexen-bitch's throat."

Nick chortled, shaking his head. Now, he didn't have to worry about that kind of stuff, being all fit with his new abilities, but back before he'd _had_ them, he hadn't exactly been zealous in training himself so to speak. Oh, sure, it wasn't like he'd sat behind a desk eating donuts all day every day or anything, but he never had the endurance for -or borderline obsession with- Gretel and his mother had about keeping on their toes.

It was funny, in some ways -when she did stuff like this- Gretel really did remind him of his mother (the only other female Grimm he knew), but in others she was completely different. He couldn't imagine _her_ making the choice his mother had; Nick didn't think -if their parents hadn't abandoned them- Gretel could have made herself leave her brother Hansel the way his mom left him with Aunt Marie. Not even if it would have protected him. Probably not even if it could have prevented him from becoming a diabetic in the first place. True, it was a different bond, brother and sister instead of mother and son -a whole different dynamic- but still.

He wondered if Gretel regretted sticking so close to her brother, now that he was missing. This wasn't, though, something he thought he could ask her. Practically anything else was fair game (she was staying in _his_ house, after all), but not that. Nick's curiosity wasn't cruel enough for that.

"Uh- _huh_ ," was Nick's slow, amused response.

"Hey, you seem pretty in shape." Gretel lifted her chin in his direction. "What did _you_ do today?"

"I ate a doughnut at my desk."

Gretel's eyebrows lowered. "Uh- _huh_..."

Nick cracked a smile at her echoing his reaction.

"No offense, but..." Gretel lowered her voice, breathlessly adding, "I effing hate you."

His smile widened as he walked over to her.

In a way that would have been threatening if someone he didn't trust did it, Gretel snagged his wrist, her grip vice-like. Her eyebrows raised themselves challengingly. "You ever fight another Grimm before?"

Of course he hadn't. Well, unless you counted the brief moments before he realized who his mother was, and even then there had been someone else there, so Nick hadn't been particularly focused on fighting _her_...

"Not one who hates me," he volunteered cheekily.

She dropped his wrist and folded her arms across her chest. "If you've never fought another Grimm, how do you know if you're really any good?"

"Oh, so you're some big expert on fighting with our kind?" Nick wanted to know.

"No," Gretel admitted, letting her arms drop back down to her sides. "But my brother and I used to practice fighting each other every day we weren't killing Hexenbiests." Nonchalantly, she tossed the pink weight she still held in one hand down onto the couch. "It's how you know you're always prepared."

Nick sighed. "Yeah, I don't think I need to worry about that."

"But you still want to fight me." Gretel seemed to be reading his face with as much ease as she had read that German passage in Aunt Marie's trailer. She'd peaked his curiosity about her skills, and how his -however enhanced- measured against them.

She'd got his attention, and she knew it.

His eyes drifted to the broken lamp. "Not here, though."

Good call. Gretel couldn't argue with that; a pair of Grimms scuffling was usually prone to leaving an extensive trail of property damage in its path. "Where, then?"

* * *

"Here." Monroe gestured at a comfortable-looking clearing in the woods, stretching out his arm as he crouched and set down the picnic basket. "This seems like a good place."

Rosalee took out the blanket she was carrying (Monroe had everything else; she'd offered to help, of course, but he'd insisted) and spread it across the warm greenery. It had been raining a little earlier. Not enough to get everything soaking wet and uncomfortable, just enough to make the world look like it was covered in dew despite the fact that it should have been way too late in the day for the morning droplets.

"This was a really good idea," she told him, sitting down on her legs as he opened the basket and started to pull stuff out.

Monroe glanced up from the gourmet vegan sandwiches, beet sausages, red wine, and fine Swiss chocolate and smiled over at his girlfriend. He was so glad that client of his with the 1920s rosewood grandmother clock had called to cancel last night; he'd been wanting some time off to do this with Rosalee for a while.

Sure, they _saw_ each other all the time, now that they were living together, but it wasn't quite the same.

Seeing each other as you ran out the door didn't leave a lot of time for conversation. Besides, sometimes when you came home and found your partner already wrapped up in bed, grinning up at you suggestively with lowered eyelids, _talking_ wasn't the first thing that came to mind. And then you were too usually tired afterward. With a picnic, you kind of got the best of both worlds. You could still flirt and touch, of course, but the environment was set up just right for catching up in the talking department, too.

Not to mention, they were just due for another picnic _anyway_. Monroe still remembered how badly their first picnic had ended, with that park and rec guy contaminated with the yellow plague attacking them and Roselee getting sick... Yeah, he figured he probably owned her a lifetime's worth of picnics to make up for _that_ one.

"I'll say," Monroe agreed softly. Turning his attention back to the basket, he added, "Now, I know we remembered to pack those wineglasses somewhere..."

Rosalee sighed happily and pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder, sliding down onto her elbow so she could recline like an old Roman while they ate.

"Ah, here they are." Monroe held up the glasses. Speckles of reflecting sunlight twinkled off the rim and shone softly on Rosalee's lower cheek, lighting up half of her continuing smile.

Her eyes were smiling, too, full of satisfied contentment.

Monroe felt so emotional he almost went full woge right then and there. He thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.

* * *

"Do you really have to go?"

Ariel tossed her last bag into the trunk of the van and reached up to shut it. "Yes, Carl."

Carl Fieri was wearing a black hoodie, which he pulled -with a rapidly shaking hand- even further over his face when Ariel said his name out loud. " _Jesus_ , Ariel!" he hissed. "I told you not to say my name outside."

"Stop being so paranoid." She walked over to the driver's side, opening the door.

"Don't leave me here alone," Carl begged her. "I'm trying to get clean. I need someone to slap the phone out of my hands if I try to get more Jay."

Ariel rolled her eyes. "When have I ever done that?"

"Having someone who knows what's going on..." Carl started, then stopped. His face had gone crestfallen, pathetically. "Wait, you _wouldn't_ do that for me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Thanks for nothing."

"Love you too, Cuz."

"You know, you lied to me."

Ariel sucked her teeth, looking back at him. "Okay, fine. You _don't_ look good since you stopped snorting Jay regularly. You look like death warmed up." She started to get in the car, still looking back. "Are we done here?"

He grabbed her arm. "No!" Carl snapped. "We're not. I can't believe you're just running away like this! I mean, I know _I_ ran from him, but you told me you weren't scared of the Grimm."

"I'm not." Ariel's forehead crinkled, and he dropped her arm. "Wait." She got back out of the car. " _That's_ what you think I'm doing? Running from _Nick_?"

" _Aren't_ you?"

She snorted. "Of course not."

"Then why won't you tell me where you're going?"

"Because it's nothing you have to worry about. It's just something I've got to do." She reached out to pat his shoulder. "Besides, this time I'm coming back."

"You came back last time, after your father died," Carl pointed out. "It just took you a couple years."

"This time it won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise." She gave him a quick hug, feeling his trembling body against hers for a moment. "As soon as find what I'm looking for, I'll make a U-turn straight for Portland."

Even though she didn't think he could do it, Ariel actually felt herself secretly hoping her cousin _would_ somehow overcome his Jay addiction. She'd almost forgotten what he was like before, back when they were kids and her mom was still alive, before her father failed to protect her and became a broken man.

Carl's parents had been alive back then, too. They'd been a happy extended family of Daemonfeuers once upon a time.

Seeing him here like his, broken and scared and driven almost mad with withdrawal pains, she wanted her cousin back. If she couldn't have her parents, she wanted _him_. She might not have wanted him to clean up his life for Bianca, but she wanted him to be healthy and safe for his own sake.

She would never stand in the way of him doing what he wanted -dating the wrong kind of girls and women, getting hooked on Wesen drugs- but she _did_ care. She couldn't help that.

"See you soon." Carl gnawed on his lower lip as his cousin pulled away and got back in the car.

Ariel slipped as smoothly back into the seat as a serpent easing into its lair. "By the way, if -by some off chance- Nick _does_ catch you, tell him I said hi." She smirked and rolled up the window.

And just like that, she was gone. Carl felt the itching temptation in his fingers to go for the phone.

To call Bianca? Or to call someone who he knew could supply him with Jay at a moment's notice -at a price? Even _he_ didn't know. Either one was dangerous right now.

He wanted to be sure Bianca was okay, but her seven psychotic uncles would find out if he called her. The really sad part was he didn't even know if she was out of the hospital yet.

And to call the one person he knew would be able to get him that Jay fix he was desperately craving... It was _unthinkable_. Especially after everything that had been going on.

He couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- go crawling back to _her_.

"Maybe I'll just lock myself in the closet and sit on my hands for an hour," he mumbled to himself as he shook his head under his dark hood and made a dash up the -way too open- driveway, back for the safety of the unsold house he was the squatter in (now -with cousin Ariel gone- _alone_ ).

* * *

Nick had to hand it to Gretel; even for a Grimm, she was tough. He had the feeling that if it wasn't for his new abilities, despite all the fights he'd won and all the Wesen he'd taken down, this woman might be kicking his ass right now.

He was a little surprised that after she started to breathe heavily and there was no change whatsoever in _his_ breathing, his heart rate barely up, Gretel didn't even _suggest_ taking a break.

It was lucky she was so quick. That all her practice with her brother over the years had paid off. Otherwise, he would have felt guilty trying to hit her as she slipped past him blocking a blow and counter-striking with one of her own, usually a lightning-fast kick he somehow didn't see coming until it grazed his chin or neck as his reflexes sent him reeling backwards to avoid full contact.

This was, Nick had to admit, wonderfully freeing. And the most fun he'd had in a long time.

Fighting a fellow Grimm in the middle of a forest -dodging trees and blows at the same time- shouldn't have been this enjoyable, but it was. It was like being almost evenly matched, for once. It gave him a chance to really feel -not just see, not just _find out_ , but _feel_ \- what he could do. To know what he was -and _could_ be, with practice- capable of.

Gretel jumped over a half-rotted stump and, whirling, aimed a fist at Nick's head.

Nick's hand shot out like it was attached to a spring, his larger hand closing around her smaller one, twisting the clenched fist so that she had to turn the other way, allowing him to duck and roll under her arm as he let her hand go.

But Gretel wasted no time in whirling again, this time using her feet to trip him up as he got back onto his feet after that roll.

If he'd been dizzy, she would have won the fight right then and there, but Nick was feeling dizzy less and less these days, and so was perfectly fine.

To protect himself from falling -like Gretel meant for him to- Nick grabbed onto her waist, using her middle as a ladder, regaining his balance.

Wrenching herself free, Gretel pushed him back into a tree and gasped out, "Not bad for a man who spent the morning eating donuts."

Pressing his head back to rest it against the rough bark, Nick rolled his eyes. _Not bad?_ Oh, _please_. Even _he_ knew he was doing _much_ better than just 'not bad'. "Maybe we should call it a draw."

"No." Gretel pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. "No way. A Grimm always finishes what they start."

Nick lifted his head and took a step towards her. "You just look a little tired, that's all."

She shook her head again. "I'm not."

"You sure?" Nick raised his eyebrows. "Because you _look_ tired."

"Well, I'm _not_."

"Wait, what's the matter with your chin?" His sharp eyes narrowed in on a line of brownish-red caked in a dripping strand from the side of her mouth straight down to her chin.

Gretel pressed two fingers against the line. "It's dirt, don't worry about it."

Nick knew she was lying. "Nice try, but that's definitely blood." He reached to move her hand away from the small cut.

She dropped her hand to the side before he touched her.

"Geez." Nick's brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning down in apologetic concern. "I didn't realize I actually got you."

Gretel snorted. "It's just a scratch, Nick. You barely nicked me."

"Maybe we _should_ stop."

"You've got to be effing kidding me."

Nick laughed. "Come on, Gretel. I'm obviously not getting tired."

"Fine." She exhaled sharply, one hand massaging a sore spot on her hip. "Then why don't we just do this: next person to pin the other one down wins the whole fight."

"It wouldn't be fair." Nick was thinking about how she was wearing herself out and his body was just getting started.

"I don't have a problem with that." Gretel smirked. "After all, who said Grimms played fair?"

Nick took a few steps back, swaggering loosely, keeping his muscles relaxed to give her at least _some_ advantage. "Whenever you're ready."

"Yaa!" Gretel ran at him.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't see it?"

Rosalee laughed and -still lying on her back, looking up at the clouds- squirmed closer to Monroe on the picnic blanket. "I mean I don't see a wolf eating a sheep."

Monroe scoffed lightly. "You're telling me that cloud on the left doesn't look like a sheep. _Really_?"

"They're clouds, they _all_ look like sheep," Rosalee pressed the side of her head against his thick, warm shoulder.

Monroe squinted. "They kind of _do_ , don't they?"

"This is so relaxing," Rosalee sighed.

" _Mmm_ ," Monroe agreed in a low grunt. "We should do this more often."

_Crash!_

Suddenly two people came shooting out of the closest trees and landed long-ways across Monroe and Rosalee's laps.

"Or, you know, maybe _not_ ," Monroe said, glancing up from the two people in his lap.

It was a guy and a young woman. And she'd landed on top, the guy trapped under her, his upper half sandwiched between her body and Monroe's lap.

"You _win_ ," came Nick's muffled groan. "Now would you mind getting off me?"

Gretel pushed her hands into his chest to pull herself up. She noticed Monroe and Rosalee and grimaced apologetically. " _Sorry_ ," she panted.

"Are you okay?" Rosalee asked, scooting her lap out from under the joint weight of Nick and Gretel.

" _Nick_?" Monroe saw his face as soon as Gretel was far up enough that she was no longer practically suffocating her fellow Grimm.

"Hey, Monroe." He smiled sheepishly. "How's it going?"

Monroe shrugged and bobbed his head in a noncommittal fashion. "Oh, well, you know, can't complain."

Rosalee's emotions betrayed her with the sudden desire to laugh. Really _laugh_. Not just a little chuckle, but a deep, hearty, full body shaking laugh. Which, as it turned out, was enough to reveal her full-on woge face to Gretel for an instant.

Gretel caught her breath. "Ah, Fuchsbau."

Rosalee's eyes widened. "Grimm."

"Yeah."

"Monroe told me about you," Rosalee realized. "You're Nick's friend."

"Nice to finally meet you close up and not smelling like a Bauerschwein nosebleed," Monroe cut in.

"I know, I hate that smell too," Gretel agreed. "I remember you; you were at the diner. Nick told me about you after we got kicked out."

"Define _we_ ," Nick groaned, still trying to completely untangle himself from his friends.

"Oh!" Monroe helped, scooting backwards. "Sorry, man."

"Thanks," Nick said, sitting up. "That position was starting to get a little awkward."

Gretel was now on her side sprawled out on the blanket. She chortled and rolled her aching body over, rubbing her eyes as she forced herself to sit up.

"Hey, do you want some water?" Rosalee asked Gretel, suddenly concerned. "You're drenched."

It was true. Gretel was covered all over in sweat; her hair was plastered to the side of her head and so were a few leaves.

Monroe looked at Nick in surprise. "Dude, you're dry as a _bone_."

While Gretel chugged some water and wine and alternatively apologized again for crashing Monroe and Rosalee's picnic, Nick thought about sweating. He'd been aware that it took more to make himself sweat, and that he could control if he wanted to wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare or not. _This_ , though... This was getting extreme. He hadn't just gone for a jog, or had a nightmare, he'd been really pushing and exerting himself. Even just now, half-trying to _let_ Gretel win, he'd been pushing his body to see how much it could handle.

These abilities were getting stronger _fast_. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

No chance of denial, either.


	5. Grimms & Ding Dongs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey is it just me, or did the music score in the latest Grimm Episode, "Eyes of the Beholder" actually sound a little like the music in the Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters Movie to anybody else?

Chapter 5: Grimms & Ding Dongs

The smell of forest and stink (in Gretel's case, that is, Nick not having sweated and because of that saved the indignity of B.O. though the odor of pine and dead leaves stuck to him so strongly it was almost as bad) still clung to the two Grimms as they walked through the front door.

Juliette's nose wrinkled automatically. She really couldn't help it; the wafting stench of her post-fighting formerly zombie boyfriend and his sweaty house-guest was overpowering.

Of course Gretel was the only one that actually _looked_ like she'd just been in a fight. Tired, cut on her cheek, strong perspiration, etc... Nick was just slightly disheveled.

Which was why Juliette -lacking any further clues- had to ask, half-laughing nervously, "Okay, _what_ happened to you guys?"

"We were in a fight," Gretel told her. She would have shrugged, but her shoulders ached too much. Instead, she managed a small, dismissive shake of her head without sending _too_ much throbbing pain through her neck. "Not a big deal."

It really wasn't. Gretel had come out of friendly scrimmages in worse shape before. The only difference was that she could usually commiserate with whoever she'd fought, after beating the shit out of _them_ while they were going after her. Getting in more than her fair share of hits. Nick, though, just stubbornly refused to be beat up.

Juliette looked concerned. "Oh, my God!" Her eyes darted over to Nick anxiously. "Are you _okay_? What sort of Wesen was it?"

"No," Nick explained, trying not to chuckle. "We weren't fighting a Wesen; we were fighting each other."

Her brow sinking, Juliette managed a puzzled, " _Why_?"

"It's how Grimms sharpen their skills," Gretel said, as though it were obvious.

"By beating the crap out of each other?" Juliette asked.

Gretel titled her head towards Nick pointedly. "Does he _look_ like I just beat the crap out of him?"

Juliette shook her head. "No, actually." Frowning at Nick like a disappointed parent, she sighed, "Geez, Nick. You didn't have to hit her so hard, did you? She's practically limping." Gretel might not have been Juliette's favorite person, but being a vet she did have something of a 'wounded critter, help it' instinct. And right now, it was being set off.

"I am not _limping_ ," snapped Gretel, suddenly fascinated by the back of her own hand resting on her bowed leg, not looking at Nick or Juliette. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Nick's expression hinted that he was caught between being embarrassed and trying to justify it. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Gretel would have been furious if he'd treated her like a delicate piece of glass while they fought; in her eyes, it would mean he didn't respect her enough to fight her for real, the way he would if she were her brother.

It would have hurt her more, Nick thought, to have her ego bruised than her body. Gretel took what she was -what they _both_ were- seriously. Belittling that by holding back more in the fight than he had (which only seemed fair since he had new abilities she didn't) would be like making a joke of her life.

He couldn't do that to her.

But of course all Juliette saw was that he'd beaten up their house-guest. Go figure.

"I'm going to get you some ice." Juliette said, walking into the kitchen.

"I didn't really hurt you, did I?" Nick asked Gretel under his breath, now that Juliette was out of the room.

She snorted. " _Please._ "

Well, that answered that question.

Juliette came fast-walking back in, handing Gretel an icepack wrapped in a rose-pink dishtowel. "Here you go."

Although Gretel gave the icepack rather a repulsed look (this might have had more to do with the girly-colored dishtowel than the object encased within), she took it and put it on a sore spot behind her neck. Nick had, briefly, had her in a headlock when she'd tried to come up behind him and jump onto his back, having flipped her forward so fast she got whiplash.

Barely a minute later another sore spot demanded her attention, now that the back of her neck was as close to numb as it was going to get, but the pack was already lukewarm.

"Sorry if that's not as cold as it should be," apologized Juliette, sucking her teeth in mild annoyance. "I think we have to call Bud in to take another look at that freezer; it's acting up again."

"I can give him a call tomorrow," Nick offered.

Though there was little point, Gretel was now pressing the non-icy icepack against her right thigh.

"Oh," said Juliette suddenly. "I just remembered, you know Mary Clowd?"

Nick blinked at her. "Uh, no..."

"Come on, Nick, you remember Mary," Juliette insisted.

Arching an eyebrow, he reaffirmed, "I don't remember Mary."

"Alicia's cousin." Juliette paused for a second, lost in thought. "Three times removed... Or was it four times? We met her...like..." She stopped, counting silently on her fingers. "Well, it would have to be before my coma... So, what, two or three years ago?"

Nick's expression didn't change. "Juliette, I have _no idea_ who you're talking about."

"Alicia's cousin."

He chuckled. "Yeah, got that much."

" _Alicia_ , the one with the husband who..."

Nick held up a hand, not wanting to get into it. Juliette knew perfectly well what he thought of their friend Alicia's abusive bastard of a husband. He was not going to get into another discussion about that in front of Gretel. Frankly, he was a little worried Gretel would do what he'd not so secretly always wanted to and actually _kill_ Alicia's husband, Joe, if she heard that story in full detail.

"Of course I know who _Alicia_ is," Nick said, as Juliette's mouth clicked shut almost audibly (she was looking at Gretel out of the corner of her eye, probably catching onto what her boyfriend was thinking she might do, half-tempted to _let_ her); "I just don't remember her ever having a cousin named Mary."

" _Anyway_ ," Juliette pressed on, "Mary invited us to a party tonight."

Nick winced.

She swatted his arm. "It'll be _fun_ , Nick."

Somehow, Nick doubted that. It wasn't that he minded going to parties with his lovely girlfriend on his arm; he just didn't really like hanging out with people he barely knew. Being a Grimm, you never knew where Wesen were going to randomly pop up. These days, they seemed to be coming in through the freaking windows. And some poor sap screaming, "Oh my God, it's a Grimm, run for your life!" and overturning the catering tables as they made a break for the nearest exit didn't exactly make Nick the most popular man in the room. Or, if it did, it was for all the wrong reasons. There was no way for him to explain the incident.

Gretel started fiddling with a loose thread dangling from the pink dishcloth. She got Nick's apprehension; it wasn't novel. She and Hansel used to feel that way, too, about throwing themselves at strangers, not knowing in advance who was what. But, for them, indulging those feelings was never an option.

"Your friend could come, too," Juliette offered, generously.

She was still largely in 'help the wounded-critter' mode. And it seemed a little rude -since Gretel _was_ staying with them for a few days, no other option, no avoiding it- to just leave their guest sitting here nursing her injures all night. Also, maybe, somewhere in her subconscious, Juliette's mind was vaguely aware that she might feel a little better about this Grimm who dressed like one of Charlie's Angels threw up a Renaissance fair if she could see her around _other_ people, not only Nick.

Oh, sure, she knew Nick didn't think of Gretel that way. That all his efforts to help her were no more a suppressed desire to be with her than Juliette's giving her an icepack had been. But, being a woman, it was still hard not to see someone of your own sex who related to your boyfriend on a level you couldn't, who had something in common with him you didn't, come flouncing into your lives. And Gretel, with her tight leather and motorcycle gang attire, was difficult not to view as a threat, however irrational that might be, especially considering the jarring away she'd first met her.

Of course, it was more likely, Juliette thought, that Nick was wrong about his new friend and she _was_ working to get the key. Way more likely that _his_ heart would be broken by betrayal than hers. It was stupid to think of Gretel as _both_ kinds of threats. Stupid, but impossible not to.

That might have had something to do with passing the invite on, too. Juliette wanting to prove she could be bigger than her emotions in this. Nick _would_ feel more comfortable if he had someone else, besides just Juliette herself, he could talk to there. Another buddy.

Inviting her like this, Juliette was in effect saying that she respected Gretel's new place in Nick's life as his friend, just like she accepted Hank and Monroe and Rosalee. Just like she accepted he was a Grimm and there were Wesen.

In Nick's line of thought, though, he couldn't help wondering why Juliette seemed to think _two_ Grimms at a party full of strangers was better than one.

Twice the table-flippings and freakouts?

He, being a guy, didn't see the matter at all angles -some of them probably imagined- like his girlfriend did. Yet, somehow, he got that she was trying to be supportive -like she always was. His wonderful, supportive, loving, ever-understanding Juliette who accepted him for what he was.

"I guess she could." Nick shrugged, turning to Gretel. "If she wants."

"You wanna come?" Juliette asked nicely. She didn't want Gretel to get the impression she was acting like she wasn't actually in the room with them.

Gretel, dropping the useless pack and cloth onto the floor with a _thud_ , managed to look up and blurt out, "Yeah, sure."

And just like that, it was settled. Gretel was coming to Mary's party with them.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Gretel remarked. "What was wrong with _my_ clothes?"

She was standing by the bed in the master bedroom after taking a shower, wearing a red silken kimono Juliette had loaned her, looking down in mild horror at the clothes laid out for her.

Juliette had set out a ruffled tan-and-black blouse that buttoned in the front, blue jeans, and a pair of black ankle boots.

As far as Gretel was concerned, the boots were the only even remotely acceptable part of this little ensemble. She'd never dressed like this a day in her life! This was what normal, soft, pretty, frilly women wore! Women like Juliette, with at least semi-normal lives and jobs. Women who _weren't_ expected to be able to reach into their shoes, pull out a throwing knife, toss it over their shoulder, and embed the blade in a Hexenbiest's abdomen at a moment's notice.

She couldn't hide _anything_ in Juliette's clothes. Even a pack of gum would have been tricky. A pistol? A knife? No way in hell.

Juliette sighed. What was wrong with Gretel's clothes? Besides the fact that no sane person would go to a party wearing that much leather? Where did she _begin_? Without being rude, of course. There was no reason to be mean. Just tell her the truth; her clothes were dirty and sweat-drenched from fighting Nick. They'd needed a wash.

"Your clothes are in the laundry," she finally settled on, gently. "And you needed something to wear tonight, so I thought you could borrow something of mine."

Gretel gave in. "Thank you." She probably shouldn't bring weapons to the party. If a Hexenbiest did turn up and attack, this could be a decent chance to put her hand-to-hand combat skills into good use.

Besides, she'd insist on bringing her own leather coat, and that was where most of her best on-person weapon-hiding spaces were _anyway_...

Juliette smiled. "You're welcome."

"I'm not sure those pants will fit me."

"Trust me." Juliette bent over the bed, scooped up the clothes, careful not to wrinkle them, and draped them over Gretel's awkwardly outstretched arm. "Compared to what you're used to, my jeans are sweats."

* * *

When the withdrawal pains were at their worst, Carl lapsed back into bad old habits. Habits that were, in their own ways, probably as dangerous as his Jay abuse.

Daemonfeuers never cut themselves deliberately to ease pain; they had their own lowly form of self-harm. They coughed human fat onto their own arms and legs (the less confident did toes or a thumb) then, breathing onto the doused body part, set it ablaze. Those that were crazy enough to do this typically avoided doing it in a way that would roast them alive; they thrived on the pain of small to medium burns.

It was when things in his life had started going downhill that Carl turned to this practice. Very few people, none of them in his life _now_ , knew. Not even Ariel knew. The times he'd seen her back when he did it a lot, Carl had managed to hide the burns from her. She never even suspected, far as he knew. Besides she hadn't been around him too much when he was a big burner. Ariel was only aware of his problems as far as being a burn out went; she knew about the Jay.

After Jay was introduced into his lifestyle, and later Bianca, Carl had been more relaxed; his inner suffering no longer so awful he needed to burn himself.

Now there was no Bianca, and no Jay. He was getting clean in hopes of getting her back, but could he get past her uncles even after he succeeded? He'd never charm them, never get them to even grudgingly like him. Maybe Ariel was right. Even if he won them over somehow, could he really expect Bianca to accept him for what he really was?

To love him as a _Daemonfeuer_?

Pain returned, and also guilt -for things he done in the past to _get_ his next Jay fix- crushing him.

He needed to burn. He needed relief.

Rocking back and forth on the cold bathroom floor, Carl rolled up his sleeve, took a deep, raspy breath, and coughed.

* * *

"Anybody ready to go yet?" Nick called up the stairs.

"We'll be down in a minute!" Juliette's voice replied.

Nick hopped off the bottom step and waited.

A few seconds later, Juliette appeared, wearing a red minidress with spaghetti straps and matching pumps.

"You look beautiful, as usual," Nick commented, grinning. Then, "Where's Gretel?"

Juliette rolled her eyes and took a step back, dragging someone with her by the arm. "You look _fine_ ," she laughed. "Just get out here!"

Nick's eyes widened when he saw Gretel. Dressed like that, she didn't look anything like the Grimm he'd come to know. Juliette must have done something to her hair -curled it, probably- to make it look shorter, because it had seemed a lot longer braided down her back. She was even wearing a little bit of makeup.

With that clothes and that hair, she looked like... Well, like _Juliette_ , actually. Partly this was due to the fact that it was _her_ clothes and makeup, but it was also a transformation in its own right. Dressed like this, Gretel could be anybody. Nick wouldn't be able to pick her out on the street, aside from the fact that she was a pretty brunette girl. And there were enough of those to make it confusing. As a cop, he might have had a hard time picking her out of a lineup.

Gretel had come into their house as one of Nick's strange friends, from his Grimm vs. Wesen world he'd been living in since Aunt Marie's death; she was walking out of it now much more like one of Juliette's normal friends.

She looked like _any_ of Juliette's friends might.

That aside, she _did_ look nice. And much more girly than Nick had been able to imagine her ever appearing.

Folding her arms across her chest as soon as Juliette let go of her, Gretel sighed, "All right, let me have it."

"You look _great_ ," Juliette tried again. "Nick, will you _tell_ her she looks great?"

"Gretel, you look great."

Almost like she was insulted when he _didn't_ insult her - _didn't_ tell her he liked her better the way she'd been before- Gretel folded her arms across her chest, marched down the stairs, and muttered, "You look like shit," as she walked past Nick and threw on her coat over Juliette's clothes.

Nick smirked tightly. " _Thanks_."

"She is a charmer," Juliette said through a clenched smile of her own.

* * *

"Hank, what are you doing here?" Nick asked, surprised to see his partner at a party thrown by one of Alicia's distant relatives.

He'd been at the party for about an hour by this point, and if there were any Wesen in attendance they were good at keeping their cools, because he and Gretel had both gotten through the evening without any Grimm incidents so far.

Gretel seemed to finally have gotten comfortable in Juliette's clothes, through she hadn't allowed them to check her coat, leaving Nick feeling suspicious.

"Please tell me you didn't bring your crossbow," he'd said to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"Of course not." She'd snorted. "Exactly how would my crossbow fit in my coat? It's a lot bigger than yours."

"Let's not go there."

"I have one knife and a _small_ pistol."

"You brought a _gun_?" he'd hissed.

She'd cocked her head at him.

"Fine, just don't let anybody _see_ it, okay?"

And she hadn't. No one had run out of the party screaming " _Gun_!" or " _Grimm_!"; Nick considered that a success.

"Oh, my goddaughter Carly is dating one of the caterers," Hank explained. "Jarold wanted me to come here and keep an eye on them tonight."

"Ah." Nick nodded. "You're chaperoning."

Hank shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Nick, you've got to see this." Gretel appeared at his side, excited. "This guy's got a taser the size of my _head_."

"I've seen tasers before, Gretel, I work with the _police_ ," Nick reminded her.

"Who's this?" Hank asked, his face lighting up.

"Oh, right." Nick couldn't believe he'd completely forgotten to tell Hank about her. He'd said he'd talk to him about it (aka meeting another Grimm) later, but somehow had never actually gotten around to it. "Hank, this is Gretel."

"Nice to meet you." Hank stuck out his hand.

"She's a _Grimm_ ," Nick mouthed.

Hank's eyes widened.

Gretel shook his hand with a grip that would have done a _Siegbarste_ proud.

"Gretel, this is Hank," Nick told her. "We work together." Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, " _Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen_."

* * *

Gretel rolled onto her side and leaned over the edge of the couch, reaching for a magazine on the coffee table.

For some reason, Juliette only kept two kinds of magazines in the house. Housekeeping and some animal care drivel journal she probably brought home from work.

The animal ones were mildly interesting. Even if the articles were shitty, Gretel liked looking at the pictures; they were mostly of birds, horses, cats, and dogs, but some more exotic pets sometimes made it in, too. But the housekeeping ones were rotten through and through. Gretel hated those with a passion. Just pictures of annoying, perfect houses she would never in her whole life be welcome in. Idyllic family rooms that no one _she_ knew had ever seen the likes of in real life splattered every page from the front cover to the back. Maybe that's why they were always empty in the photographs.

Gretel had already read most of the animal ones, and reading did nothing to block out _sound_ anyway. Just a welcome distraction in its own way.

She would have switched on the T.V. but the cable box was scrambled or something else was wrong, because it wasn't working no matter which buttons she pressed on the remote.

After five minutes of uselessly low-pitched static that couldn't drown out a _housefly_ , she'd finally given up and switched the damn thing off.

Nick probably could have gotten it to work, but he was otherwise occupied. In fact, his current occupation was why Gretel was searching for a distraction. It didn't really bother her as much as stuff like that seemed to bother most people, but it seemed rude to just sit down here and _listen_.

Especially when they had no idea she could hear them screaming and moaning and rolling around up there.

After they'd gotten home from the party, Juliette all loosened up from three or four glasses of wine she'd had, Nick and his girlfriend had slipped upstairs, leaving Gretel in the living room, making up the couch, completely forgotten.

Now it was just endless squealing and declarations of love, followed by moans and pleas to a deity of some kind, ending with the squeaking of bed springs and the sound of the bed itself moving up there, scuffing up the floor.

Even someone as low-key about such matters as Gretel could only take it for so long before she pressed a couch pillow against her ear and silently prayed to each and any higher power that might or might not exist to make her deaf, just for the rest of the night.

* * *

Around one AM Nick came down and opened the fridge. The ice was still melting; Bud would hopefully be able to fix that real soon. What were the odds of finding an unspoiled late night snack?

About as good as finding unspoiled milk. It looked like he'd have to settle for dry cereal or something else out of the cupboards.

Shutting the refrigerator door, the retracting light suddenly landed on someone sitting on the counter.

Nick slammed the door the rest of the way and whirled around, prepared to defend himself.

"It's just me," Gretel said, scooting to the edge of the counter and jumping off, walking over to turn on the kitchen light.

"Is that a Ding Dong?" Nick asked, noticing a dark pastry in her hand.

"Yeah." Gretel swallowed. "It is."

"Toss me one."

"Here." She glanced into the box she'd pulled it out of. "You're lucky; that was the last one."

Mouth half-full of Ding Dong, Nick chuckled, "So you've been hanging out in the kitchen eating Hostess treats all night?"

"Well, honestly, I thought it would be quieter in the kitchen," Gretel admitted. After a pause, she shrugged. "It wasn't."

Nick's forehead crinkled for a moment before he caught on. "You could hear us upstairs?"

Gretel nodded. "Wear her out, did you?"

"Oh my God."

"Is that the only line you know, Nick?"

Nick was redder than a tomato now. "I can't believe you heard..." He put his hand on his forehead. "Did you hear _everything_?"

"Pretty much."

Gretel sat down at the table across from him. "Don't worry about it; I'm used to it."

" _What_?"

"Hansel," she explained, shrugging again.

"So you're telling me your brother is a..."

"A huge man-slut, yes," Gretel chuckled, smiling to herself. Even when she was saying something negative about her twin, she still missed him. "I blame our parents for that. Aside from me, he didn't have anyone he could rely on and, like I told you, he would even _talk_ about our mom and dad. I guess he felt the only way to fill in the void was to be a bit of a womanizer.

"The first few times, he tried to hide it from me; I think he wanted to believe I didn't _know_ what I was hearing in the other room when we stayed with people. He was only fourteen when he..." Here Gretel couldn't quite look at Nick, she had to turn away. "When he started actively pursuing women."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She looked at him now. "Because I trust you. I doubt you'll think less of him for what he's done."

Nick crinkled his nose. "So for years you've been hearing your brother and...his... _company_...?"

"You get used to it," said Gretel. "Nothing in my life was conventional."

"But...it was just him? _You_ never...?" Nick regretted the question the minute he stammered it out. "Sorry, too personal. That's none of my business."

"Are you asking me if I ever had men spend the night?"

Nick blanched.

Gretel looked down at the tabletop. "No. For one thing, Hansel would have killed them. For another...something..." She took a deep breath. "Something happened that made me...not want that..."

"What happened?"

Gretel closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I was almost gang raped when I was a teenager, Nick."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand comfortingly, but he wasn't sure if -talking about this- she wanted any male touching her. "I had no idea."

"There was no way you could have known." Gretel sat up straighter. "Hansel didn't even know. I never told him. I didn't want him to think it was his fault; he was with another woman at the time. I didn't want him to feel guilty, because I think he actually cared about Mina; that was the name of the girl he was with that afternoon. He never cared about any of the others."

"How did you...?"

"How did I get away from them?" Gretel smiled. "Easy. That was the day I met Edward. He killed most of the effing bastards."

"Gretel, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"The more I'm around you, the more I hear about your life, the more I understand why my mother left me with my aunt to protect me. You and your brother had to go through so much you weren't ready for... But I had years and years of just being a normal kid...and then a normal guy, and a normal detective..."

Gretel shook her head. "Abandonment is never the answer."

"She didn't abandon me, not like..." Not like Gretel's parents did. "She chose to let me live my regular life for as long as I could."

"Nick, being a Grimm's not something you choose -or that your parents can choose for you." She rested her elbows on the table. "This isn't the life Hansel and I chose."

 _What_ would _you have chosen?_ Nick wanted to ask.

But he didn't. What was the _point_?


	6. Triumph Of The Hexenbiest

Chapter 6: Triumph of the Hexenbiest

" _Karaoke 4 Kops_?" Nick read the flyer in a tone trapped in that fine line between amused and disgusted.

Hank chuckled and shook his head. "Man, the fundraisers around here get stupider every year."

Nick dropped the flyer down on the desk and pulled out his chair, sitting down. "So stupid that now we can't even spell the word _cops_."

"Or the word _for_ ," Hank added.

"Maybe only four of us have to do it," Nick suggested.

"Oh, wouldn't _that_ be nice." Hank sighed.

"We're still working on this Bianca Snowlight attempted murder case, and we're no closer to a breakthrough." Nick turned on the computer and clicked open a useless file he'd already read through five or six times. "You'd think they'd cut us some slack."

"It's because they don't want to do this either," Hank told him. "And if _they_ have to sing in front of their coworkers, then so do we."

"Wait, didn't you say you _enjoyed_ Karaoke on your last vacation?"

Hank cocked his head slightly. "Come on, Nick. _Everything's_ fun on vacation. Especially if there's an open bar. No one wants to sing in front of their coworkers."

"And dead sober, at that," Nick had to agree. "At least we can all commiserate together."

Sergeant Wu came up to them grinning, holding out the flyer. "Hey, you guys hear about the new fundraiser?" His grin widened. "Karaoke!"

Hank blinked.

Nick coughed.

Captain Renard came up behind Wu and yanked the flyer out of his hand as he walked past him. "Maybe after we blow all our tax dollars on a fundraiser that's barely going to cover the audio equipment, we can have a spelling bee."

"But Captain," Hank joked, "we gotta get down with the times. _Everyone's_ spelling cop with a K now."

"It's very popular with meth addicts," Nick added.

"Oh, that reminds me." Wu whipped out his iphone. "I've got to have my neighbor record _Breaking Bad_ for me tonight."

Captain Renard rolled his eyes. "Any progress on the Snowlight case?"

Nick shook his head, serious again now. "None." He leaned back in his chair and spun around. "We've hit a complete dead end. There's a lot of bad blood in that family, but we can't prove any of them even _wanted_ Bianca dead. Asher insists it's August; Bianca thinks Asher's just overprotective... It just goes in circles."

"We ever bring the boyfriend in for questioning?" Captain Renard wanted to know.

"He's still M.I.A." Nick grimaced.

"It's not your fault he got away, Nick."

"Actually, Captain, it is."

"We'll figure it out." He pulled out a manila folder and flipped through some papers pensively. "I just wanted to check with you, since you and Hank are the ones on this case, and see if you think Bianca needs to be placed in protective custody, in case the culprit tries again."

Nick glanced at Hank. "What do you think?"

He shrugged. "She's got all her uncles watching her like a hawk now. She's got her own personal swat team of seven. There's no need to waste police resources."

Renard nodded and closed the folder.

The doors swung open and two officers led in a familiar young woman dressed in leather and lace, handcuffed.

"We found her driving a car registered in your name, Burkhardt."

Gretel cocked her head in annoyance. "Nick, could you tell these idiots I had your _permission_ to take the car to get take-out?"

"You know this woman, Burkhardt?" An eyebrow or two was raised.

Nick smirked impishly. "Never seen her before."

" _Nick_!" Gretel glared, almost murderously.

He laughed. "Just kidding. You can let her go; she's a friend of mine."

The officers let go of her hands and she held them up, rattling the cuffs pointedly as they fumbled for the keys to unlock them. Somehow, Gretel could make any man -even a cop- just a little nervous. She just had that gift-like ability.

As soon as her hands were free, Gretel started rubbing her wrists.

"Nice to see you again," Hank called over to her.

Gretel looked up and nodded in his direction. "Oh, yeah. Hi again."

Renard was staring at her very intently; Nick wondered if the captain guessed -or _sensed_ , more likely- that Gretel was a Grimm.

* * *

Bianca Snowlight read the email for a fifth time.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her uncles would never agree. They wouldn't believe one word of August's plea to reconcile their differences. Most of them still thought her stepmother was the one tried to kill her.

Uncle Asher would have a fit if she told him she was even _thinking_ about going to see August.

But her stepmother had never reached out like this before. They were family, technically, even if Bianca was a little afraid of her. She had no intentions of moving back in with her father and his wife, leaving her uncles, or of changing her name back to Applesmith, but what was so wrong with talking? What was so wrong with trying to settle all this bad blood?

Maybe this was all that was needed. When she and August were able to prove that they could be on civil terms, well then _of course_ her uncles would have to understand that she couldn't _possibly_ be the one who sent that pie.

And who knew? Maybe -just maybe- if they had to admit they were wrong about August, they'd admit they were wrong about Carl, too. They'd have to let her see him sometime. Even if she had to wait for him, she would. She loved him. And he still loved her. He'd have come to her window by now, just like he used to, if he wasn't so scared of that detective and of her uncles...

With that cheery, hopeful thought in mind, Bianca flounced over to her bed, ripped off the sheets, and began tying them into a ladder.

* * *

While she walked down the hall of the precinct, Gretel was sliding a leather strap through one of the buckles on her coat; it had come loose and she hadn't exactly been able to fix it while she was handcuffed earlier.

A muscular arm promptly pushed her against the wall. It wasn't rougher than it needed to be. All the force in the push was to keep her in place, not to hurt her. There was no added pain.

If Gretel had been more of a damsel in distress, she might have screamed. This was a police station, after all. Nick himself was only a few feet away, behind the doors she'd left behind her. But, of course, Gretel wasn't like that. She liked to _try_ and save herself first; even on the odd occasion when she didn't succeed and Hansel had had to come charging in.

So she stared at her attacker first. She needed to know who he was, what his motivation was. That was the best way to fight something like this off, not only well but also -if she didn't want to make a ruckus- quietly. Biting off his nose (like she'd threatened to do to the Bauerschwein) would be affective enough, but everyone in the building would hear the resulting scream. Maybe this was one of those times where a knee to the groin would be the better option. Or a simple shove. It wouldn't be easy to shove him, though, she realized. He was a good-sized guy; he had more muscle than she did.

He was the _Captain_ , of all people. Nick's boss.

Lifting her arm and pressing it against his broad chest to keep him at least an inch away from her, Gretel whispered, "You have five seconds to tell me your name, and what the hell you want, before I tear out your throat."

"My name is Sean Renard."

She stared at him more intently. "You're hiding something."

"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "Where are my manners?" He clenched his jaw, set his teeth hard against each other, going into his fullest woge.

Gretel's eyes widened. _Zauberbiest._

Changing back, Sean Renard nodded. "So you _are_ also a Grimm. Good. I _thought_ so."

"Yes, I'm a Grimm, just like Nick." Gretel couldn't shrug in her current position, but she did her best to make her body language seem nonchalant. She wanted to play it cool until she understood what this Renard guy really wanted from her.

"I didn't mean in addition to Nick," Sean told her. "Yes, don't worry, I know about him; I knew about him before he knew about me."

He knew? Nick effing _knew_? Gretel half wanted to get away from Sean Renard just so she could march back into that other room and punch Nick. Real nice that he'd warned her he worked with (no, worse, _for_ ) a Zauberbiest! He knew her bad history with Hexenbiests; he could have at least _warned_ her.

"Then what did you mean?" Gretel asked, a little short of breath.

"I _meant_ ," said Renard coolly, "what you are in addition to a Grimm."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But her pulse was quickening, her face going this cross shade between red and purple with humiliated anxiety.

"Yes, you do." Renard grabbed her arm and pulled her wrist back so that he could lean closer. "I woged. I showed you _my_ dark side. Let's see yours."

"I'll scream," Gretel hissed.

"You won't. You have more pride than that."

"I'm a _Grimm_ ," she practically spat. "That's _all_ I am."

"You're a Grimm," Renard agreed. "A Grimm who hunts Hexenbiests. I know about you and your brother, Gretel. Don't act so surprised. All Hexenbiests and their bastard children from here to Timbuktu know about the great Hansel and Gretel: Hexenbiest hunters. Selective Grimms with an incredible amount of self-hatred." His eyebrows lifted. "Considering who their mother was."

She didn't _mean_ to. Really, she didn't. She controlled it so well, even other Grimms never spotted it. Nick never guessed, never suspected. Why should he? She was a Grimm, just like him. He'd called her kin. They were the same. They were! But Renard was right; that side -the side that was like Nicholas Burkhardt- was only _one_ side of her. It was the side of her that she embraced fully, training and pushing herself to excel in. The other side... It was so, so _small_. Gretel hoped it might vanish altogether one day. She didn't nurse it or embrace it; she was _not_ a witch! She didn't know about powers or herbs or potions.

And her woge, which Sean could see now and nod at with such smug satisfaction, was so minimal. The only rotting, disfigured flesh was a small patch around the left side of her chin and lower cheek. Other than that, even in a full woge, she was clean.

She was a _Grimm_ ; not a Hexenbiest.

"I've seen worse," Renard said dryly.

Gretel wrenched her wrist free and replaced her arm protectively, keeping his face away from hers. "What do you know about my mother?"

"Adrianna." Sean swallowed. "She was a friend of my mother's."

Gretel swallowed too -gulping back, blinking back- but not quick enough. Three tears betrayed her, rolling down her face speedily, as if the teardrops themselves were separate entities that could feel ashamed for existing.

"I'm going to let you go now." Sean started to take a step back. "But you have to come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Gretel nodded. She wasn't going to run; she needed to hear what Sean Renard had to say about her mother. Gretel was so desperate to hear it, she knew Hansel would be disgusted. He'd want her to cut this monster's head off and get to safety. Renard knew her secret, and he was the offspring of Hexenbiest. That made him untrustworthy. Hexenbiests were liars, killers, cunning vessels of evil... The only good Hexenbiest was a dead one.

Hansel would _hate_ her for this if he was here now.

But he wasn't.

And she needed this.

* * *

August smiled at her inbox. Two messages. Exactly what she'd hoped for. She clicked open Bianca's email first.

She was coming. Stupid girl.

Bianca thought she was so pretty and perfect, didn't she? That no one could ever _not_ love her. She'd never understood August's resentment towards her. A grown up not over the moon for her charms? Oh, how _shocking_!

But not as shocking as what August planned to show the little twit when she arrived. Bianca had to learn, sooner or later, that she couldn't have everything she wanted.

As her stepmother, August was determined to be the one to teach her that.

_Ding-Dong._

The doorbell. Here he was. Right on time. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror above her computer, going into full woge and running her perfectly manicured fingers through her hair.

Strutting to the door, August opened it with an exaggerated flourish.

Carl Fieri stood on the front step, pale and trembling. He held his arms awkwardly. Clearly he'd been playing with fire again. Always trying to fight the urge.

August smiled at him. He always came crawling back to her. _Always_. He'd tried to stay away, thinking -silly boy- that he was in love with Bianca, but here he was. He was back. Her Daemonfeuer lover.

He looked over his shoulder. Always so scared someone would follow him. Somehow it never got old; August had always found his paranoia charming.

" _Hello_ ," she purred seductively. "Come in."

Carl entered, careful where he stepped on the newly polished marble floor.

"I'm glad you're here, baby." She reached out and stroked his clammy cheeks. "You couldn't have picked a better day. My husband won't be back for _hours_."

He shook his head and stepped back, brushing off her touch. "I don't want that. I told you I just wanted to buy some Jay; I'm trying to go clean, but I can't take it anymore... I'm in pain every minute of the day..." Carl bit onto his lower lip. "I just need some relief. And I don't know who else has a supply right now..."

" _Baby_ ," cooed August, closing the gab between them. "You know I won't take your money."

"Then there's no reason for me to be here."

"You don't want me?" She flipped some hair over her shoulder. "I can make your pain go away just as well as a dose of Jay can."

"No, I'm not doing this anymore. I _don't_ love you."

"You love _her_?" August scowled. What did he want _Bianca_ for? She was just a _child_ , not an experienced woman like herself.

"You know I do."

"Well, you don't need to love me to give me what I want."

"You're disgusting."

"Then go."

He nodded. "I will."

"But you leave without this." August bent over, reached into her shoe, and pulled out a small see-through bag of Jay. "And you know my stepdaughter is never going to be allowed to see you. You'll suffer miserably and alone." She grinned at him, batting her eyes. "Have fun."

"Please just let me _buy_ some," he begged her in a choked voice. "I don't have all the money now, but I'm good for it. Half up front. The rest by and by."

"I don't want your money," August said again. "And I don't want _anything_ from you _by and by_. I want something right now."

"August, please..."

She reached out and started to unbutton his shirt. "Don't worry, sweetie, it'll be over before you know it." _In more ways than one..._ "Burned flesh looks good on you, baby."

"August, please don't."

She pulled him to her and started to kiss his neck as she unfastened the remaining two buttons.

"I never wanted you," he choked.

"Oh, but I've _always_ wanted you," she whispered. "And I'll always have you."

"I hate you."

"But your hate doesn't take away anything I want. Your beautiful mouth, your young body..."

Carl's eyes shone with tears. "I should have let the Grimm catch me and cut off my head."

"Hush, baby. Don't be so dramatic." She pressed her mouth against his in a rough kiss.

* * *

Gretel willed herself to stay calm as Sean Renard shut the door behind them. She was alone in an office now. His mother was a Hexenbiest; he _could_ want revenge. If this was some trick, an attempt to attack her for what she'd done to his kind (Hansel would call suck tricks typical), this would be the time to go for it. The door was glass, and there were a lot of windows, but there were also plenty of blinds.

She wasn't usually this fragile, but this was about her parents -her _mother_ \- and for once in her life there was no one to hold her back. No one to try and convince her she didn't give a shit. _Hansel_ didn't; she only pretended not to. Though sometimes she wondered how much of her brother's attitude was only pretend, too. To some extent, she knew he just wanted to keep himself from hurting.

How much pretending did they do for each other? Or _themselves_?

"First things first," Renard said, pressing his palm down on the side of the desk. "I need to know who you're working for. Before I divulge any information to you."

"I don't work for anybody," Gretel snapped, offended. "If you know so much about me and my brother, you know we only work for ourselves."

"No offers from the royal families? The Verrat loves its Grimms." He smiled bitterly. "Especially the ones that can deliver."

"What I have or have not been offered is none of your business."

"But you're not working for the Verrat or any royal house now?" He leaned forward, staring dead into her face.

Gretel half wanted to spit into his face, for being that close to hers so many times today without permission. "No."

"You realize I _will_ find out if you're lying," he warned her. "It's just a matter of time." He pulled back. "And not a lot of it, either."

"What would lying get me?"

"Do you know who I am?"

She shrugged. "Zauberbiest."

"I asked _who_ , not _what_."

Gretel's face betrayed her. In a good way this time. Renard was actually taken back. "You don't know. And I take it you don't know about Nick having the key?"

"What key?"

"If you're not after the key, then why are you here, with Nick, instead of killing Hexenbiests with your brother?"

Gretel didn't trust him enough to tell him her brother was missing -or worse. She didn't answer.

"Famous witch hunting team finally broke up?"

"What if we did?" She wasn't saying yes or no, she wasn't telling him anything he could use against her (or Hansel, wherever he was).

"Your mother sided with the Resistance," Renard said slowly, letting that sink in. "Your father, the Grimm, eventually joined her, leaving the Verrat."

Gretel felt weak at the knees.

"What I don't understand is why you hate Adrianna, but not your father. Grimms can be bad people, too."

"It wasn't a _Grimm_ that left my brother -the only person I had left- with a disease that could _kill_ him if he forgets, even _one_ time, to take his injections," Gretel said darkly, folding her arms across her chest. "It wasn't a _Grimm_ that forced him to eat by putting a knife to my throat."

Sean Renard's expression softened a little. "There _are_ good Hexenbiests in the world, Gretel. And good Zauberbiests. Not as many as I wish I could say there were, being what I am. Not so many that I'd expect you to be _proud_ to share even a fraction of our DNA, but enough that I'd think you and your brother could at least avoid crossing the line into genocide."

Gretel looked down at her boots.

"Gretel, look at me..." Renard waved his hand under her face, making it clear he expected her to obey.

She did so, but slowly.

"It just shows how powerful your mother really was, that you can woge at _all_ ," he told her. "The blood of a Grimm can take away that ability and all Hexenbiest powers. The fact that your father's DNA didn't overwhelm hers so significantly for that reason tells me something. It tells me the royal families will _want_ you.

"If they don't have you yet, they'll want you desperately. More than they want Nick, and only slightly less than they want that damned key. And if they can't have you, they'll kill you. You'll have Reapers chasing you wherever you go."

Hansel had said that once: _I don't think we're the hunters, Gretel. I think we're being hunted._ She'd thought he was being paranoid because of a sugar spike at the time. Now she wasn't so sure. They had been hunted down as children, and young adults, relentlessly. Nick hadn't even _seen_ a Reaper's sorry ass before he was a grown man.

"Do you know why they left us?" Gretel asked quietly.

"Who?"

"Our parents." _Mine and Hansel's._

"The Verrat never forgave your father for leaving them. It was the ultimate betrayal. It was only a matter of time. Maybe your mother got wind of it before it happened."

"Before _what_ happened?" Gretel swallowed hard.

"Gretel..."

"They're dead, aren't they?"

Sean Renard nodded.

"How?"

"Burning." Renard slid into a leather chair, shaking his head. "And hanging."

"Both?"

"They burned your mother, and hung your father."

We were _wrong_ , she realized brokenly. Hansel and I were wrong about them all this time...

"In a few days time, expect a package," Sean Renard told her after a long pause. "From me. Its contents belonged to your mother. I'll send it to Nick's house. It's better if you have it. Adrianna gave it to my mother, but I have no use for it. If you're lucky, it might protect you."

"Why are you helping me?" asked Gretel, her brow furrowing.

"Because you look like Adrianna, a good friend in my mother's time of need. And you care about Nick." He folded his hands, intertwining his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "And for that reason, it's not currently in my best interests to see you dead. So accept my help and watch your back."

* * *

Carl had never hated himself more than that moment when August, finished with him for now, dressed in nothing but gray silk sheets, took a cigarette and pulled out a lighter from her nightstand drawer.

He couldn't believe he'd been so weak. So desperate for Jay that he would give into this. He hated August, stupid cheating whore that she was, but his self hatred ran even deeper. She'd used him, the way she always did when he begged her for Jay... However, _he_ was the one who _let_ himself be used.

Worse, he'd betrayed Bianca with a woman who was _nothing_ next to her. His own beautiful Bianca who he wanted to tell everything and clean up his life for. Bianca, who could understand about everything, but would never be able to forgive him for _this_ , if she knew. Even the best girl in the world had her limitations. And the best girl in the world was, of course, smart enough to know she deserved better.

"August?" called a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

 _Bianca!_ Carl jumped out of the bed, barely even noticing how happy August looked, puffing away on her cigarette. What the hell was _Bianca_ doing here?

"Come _innnnn_ ," chimed August, in a sing-song tone, exhaling.

"Holy Jesus! _Shit_!" Carl dropped to the ground, fumbling to find his pants and throw them back on.

But it wasn't any use. A half-dressed Carl couldn't explain to a horrified Bianca, staring at him in heartbroken disbelief, what he was doing in August Applesmith's bedroom in the first place.

"Carl..." Her pretty white face crumpled. "How _could_ you?"


	7. Jay Junkies & Wands

Chapter 7: Jay Junkies & Wands

Nick and Gretel were fighting again. Testing out their Grimm skills on each other. They'd fallen into something of a rhythm with their practice fights lately. Nick managed to be more careful of hurting her without -at the same time- holding back and offending her. This had gotten easier over the last few times they'd practiced, mainly because he was getting used to her.

Now that he knew his fellow Grimm better, he could predict more accurately where her blows were going to fall and, in turn, where he should aim his. Bruises galore still happened (and more than once he'd worried he had dislocated Gretel's chin or caused her a severe nose-bleed), but Gretel never limped into the house these days, actually _looking_ like she'd suffered a beating. Of course, Nick was growing more sure than ever that, if it weren't for his enhanced abilities, _he_ would be the one with the bruises to show for all their sparring.

Gretel had just kicked him -with a speedy roundhouse that swung around to hit him squarely in the gut- backwards into a tree, and he was grabbing onto her wrist and twisting it, jumping counterclockwise, so that she'd been the one cornered into the same tree she'd knocked him against, when he heard his iphone go off.

Naturally, he'd been smart enough not to fight with it in his pocket, setting it down on a rock a few feet away when they'd started.

Panting but stubbornly trying to hide it by inhaling sharply, swallowing, and thrusting her hips into a lazy 'I'm _choosing_ to stand lopsided' pose, Gretel took a step back as Nick freed her wrist and walked over to the ringing phone. She still couldn't get over that initial rush of jealousy she felt every time he never broke a sweat during their practice fights. When he answered that phone he wasn't going to sound even remotely breathless. He was going to sound like he'd just been taking a casual stroll in the woods.

God, she effing _hated_ him...

" _Burkhardt_." His eyes widened at what the person on the other end said. "Okay, I'll be right there."

Willing herself not to groan, Gretel came over and eased down onto the rock Nick had just taken his iphone off of. There was a sore spot between her shoulders, her feet ached, and she could feel part of her lower back that -rebelling against too many whip-lashed backward flip dodges- was was cramping up.

Nick ended the call and slipped the iphone into his jean's pocket.

"What happened?" Gretel asked.

"I have to go now," he told her, reaching for the jacket he'd left on the ground earlier. "It's about the Snowlight case. Can we pick this up later?"

"Yeah, sure." Gretel nodded; it hurt too much to shrug.

* * *

"It's over, Carl. Stop running. I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to take you back to the precinct to answer a few questions."

" _Jesus_..." Carl stopped running and sank to his knees, the Grimm at his back. He was only a block from the house he was squatting at, but it might as well have been a million miles; he was too tired to keep running like this. "August call you?"

The Grimm shook his head. "Bianca."

He turned around slowly, nodding. Okay, then. If August had called, it would just be another cruel trick of hers, using him then turning him over to the Grimm to get his head cut off. Bianca just thought she was calling the cops, who simply wanted to take him in for questioning. She'd never had anything to really protect him from -that she'd known of, anyway- but she hadn't exactly been willing to go out of her way to find him just so the police could badger him with questions. That was _before_. Now that he'd hurt her, and she knew about it, she'd just given in and done the right thing.

And, frankly, Carl didn't blame her. Not one bit.

His poor Bianca didn't know about Wesen or Grimms. She couldn't have known who - _what_ \- she was _really_ calling. Besides, if the Grimm killed him now, he probably deserved it after what he'd done to her.

It flashed briefly into Carl's mind that he'd run out of August's house, on that horrible day Bianca walked in on him in her stepmother's bedroom, without even taking the Jay with him, but he pushed the thought away. That was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Still, that didn't change the fact that the hand he held out to the Grimm's partner, so he could pull him back up onto his feet, was shaking like a leaf.

The Grimm's eyes seemed to zero in on the trembling hand. Carl swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze.

* * *

Gretel noticed the package at Nick's door almost immediately. She remembered what Sean had told her about expecting something from him and, looking both ways, bent down and picked it up.

Part of her felt vaguely excited to hold something that had belonged to her mother. Another part felt like she was betraying Hansel somehow by accepting it; even though she knew the truth about their parents now. Ending old beliefs -based on truth or not- is never easy, especially not for a stubborn half-Grimm, half-Hexenbiest.

And what if this was a trick? Sean Renard could just be screwing with her... But what would _that_ get him?

Still, he _had_ known her mother's name. _Adrianna._ He'd said it in a tone that actually passed for respectful, like he thought highly of her. More highly, probably, than he thought of Gretel and her brother: Hexenbiest killers.

Fingers curling around the cardboard, knowing better than to open it on her fellow Grimm's front porch in broad daylight -whatever was or was not inside- she fumbled in her leather pouch for the spare key Nick loaned her -the side of her hand brushing against Hansel's insulin needle- and let herself in.

She nearly bumped into Juliette, who was checking for messages on the answering machine. "Oh, sorry."

"It's okay." Juliette glanced at Gretel's hands and noticed the package. "You're getting mail here now?" She regretted saying anything almost immediately and forced herself to smile reassuringly.

This had nothing to do with the mail; she'd just felt a small twinge of annoyance a couple days ago when Nick decided Gretel needed her own key and anyone else treating this house like it was her address just chafed that annoyance. It really wasn't Gretel's fault, though. She hadn't even _asked_ for the spare. Nick had just given it to her, said it made it easier than someone always having to be home to let her in. After all, he'd pointed out, Juliette was a full-time vet and he was a cop, so they couldn't _always_ be on hand when Gretel came and went. It wasn't practical for her to be trapped in the house when they were at work if she hadn't left before they did, or out of it, if she _had_.

Juliette prided herself on being fair, and she knew it wasn't right to take out her frustration on Gretel.

She didn't want to blame _Nick_ , either, though, despite the fact that it was more his fault than anybody else's in this situation. _He_ was the softie who decided to let the first non-relative Grimm that turned up in Portland into their home.

"No, it's just something someone wanted me to have," Gretel said, walking past Juliette and putting the box down on the couch.

"Well, as long as your dry cleaning bill doesn't start showing up in our mailbox, I guess it's cool," Juliette joked. She wished she could do a better job of keeping the tension out of her voice. She really wanted any friend of Nick's to feel welcome. Why was it sometimes so _hard_ with Gretel? She'd honestly thought that after inviting her to that party, seeing her dressed as a normal person, things would get easier. Somehow they hadn't.

Gretel did smile a little (or maybe it was a wince), but she didn't bother responding. She knew Juliette still didn't like or trust her. Nothing on that front had changed. It didn't matter how hard Juliette tried to hide it; Gretel was perfectly aware that Nick's girlfriend still saw her as a threat on some level. Maybe Juliette really believed she was after that mysterious key Renard had mentioned. Or maybe she just didn't like another young female in the house that had formally been occupied by only herself and Nick.

Either way, Gretel wasn't about to open the package in front of her. It would have to wait.

A scuffling sound came from the kitchen, followed by a mile-a-minute monologue about the problem with their freezer, ending in a long-winded apology for taking so long to come over and a thorough thanking of their patience and understanding.

"Bud's here," Juliette explained.

 _Nick's Eisbiber friend._ Gretel smiled to herself, thinking of Ben. She imagined Bud might look -and maybe act- like an older version of him. It made her a little lonely, thinking of her friends she hadn't seen in a while. She didn't miss Ben as much as she missed Hansel, not by a long shot, but she still missed him.

Bud -what she could see of him as he pulled his head out of the freezer and bent over to pick up his toolbox as she and Juliette walked into the kitchen- didn't look much like Ben after all, but he did have that same chatty ice beaver spirit as her friend.

Or he did with _Juliette_ , before his eyes landed on Gretel standing beside her and he jumped back and let out a startled gasp.

"Oh, God!" Bud held up his free hand. "Look, I don't want no trouble. Not that I'm trying to insult you by calling you trouble, it's just-"

Juliette choked back a giggle. "Bud, it's okay. This is Gretel; she's a friend of Nick's."

"Oh." Bud relaxed, pausing to think for a second. "Oh, _yeah_! I remember now, some of the guys down at the bar were talking about there being another Grimm in town, but I just figured they were telling tall tales." He looked at Gretel again. "Obviously you're not a tall tale." He stopped. "Not that you're not tall, you're very tall. Like an Amazon. No, I'm sorry, that must be insulting, an Eisbiber calling a Grimm an Amazon. Forget I said that. Besides, you're really not that tall; you're a nice normal height for your size." He inhaled several sharp breaths after not taking one for so many rambling sentences. "I'm Bud." Bud lifted up his already outstretched hand to shake Gretel's. "What am I saying? You already knew that. Juliette just called me Bud right in front of you. So obviously you know I'm Bud."

Gretel laughed and shook his hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Bud."

"Nice to meet you, too." He stared at her, half in relief and half in mild awe. He was still in awe of _Nick_ sometimes, and Gretel was an _unknown_ Grimm being nice to him. He couldn't help being a little starstruck.

"Are you all right?" She cocked her head at him, concerned.

"Oh..." Bud shook his head and snapped out of it. "I'm fine. One of you tell Nick I said hi and to call me if the freezer acts up again. Not that it should. Hopefully I've fixed it right this time...not that I fixed it wrong on purpose the last time...it just..."

"It's okay, Bud, I'm sure you did great." Juliette handed him a small roll of twenties. "And I hope you don't mind, but I threw in a tip."

"Oh, that's not necessary," he tried. "I couldn't..."

"No, keep it," Juliette insisted. "Though, if you wanted to bring over another one of your wife's pies, I'm sure Nick wouldn't say no. The last one was fantastic."

Bud grinned widely. "I'll pass on the message."

The grin was for her, but Juliette noticed that last look Bud cast back in their direction was for Gretel.

She told herself to stop being so petty. It was only natural Bud would look back at Gretel; she was new, and a Grimm. Still, deep down, Juliette could feel that slight chafing rubbing away at her buried negative emotions, trying to bring them back up against her will.

* * *

"When Bianca called you, she say she hated me?" Carl wanted to know.

Nick almost told him they hadn't brought him in to answer _his_ questions, but seeing the desperate look on the kid's face, he held off.

His hands were shaking even _more_ now, his face paler than a bleached sheet. The creepiest part were his colorless, blood-drained lips; they could have belonged to an albino.

"Thanks for not trying to barbecue us, by the way," Hank said, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest.

Carl's eyes flickered over to him, stunned.

"Yeah, that's right, Nick's told me all about you being a Daemonfeuer."

Carl shrugged, slumping in his seat. "It doesn't matter anymore. My life's over. I've lost everything. Poor Bianca...she deserved so much better..."

Nick sighed. "Carl, look, I know you don't want to talk to me. And I know that if you weren't depressed, you would have put up a hell more of a fight before you'd have let me take you anywhere. I'm not stupid. But I meant it when I said I wasn't going to hurt you. I'm only concerned with finding out who tried to kill Bianca."

Carl sucked his teeth. "Then you're just wasting time. I don't know anyone who would want to hurt her."

"Besides you?" Nick raised an eyebrow.

" _That_ -" Carl's spine strained up, and for a split-second there was a dash of color rushing back to his face. Then he seemed to remember he was talking to a Grimm. His eyes dropped down to the table. "That's not fair."

"You've been having an affair with her stepmother," Hank pointed out. "How's that for fair?"

Carl laughed under his breath.

"What's so funny?" Hank asked, walking over and pulling out the chair across from him.

"Whatever August and I had," Carl said, his tone growing snide, "it was not a _relationship_."

"Oh?" Nick leaned in, folding his hands on the table.

Grimacing, Carl closed his eyes and inhaled so deeply he shuddered. "I told you I don't know who tried to kill Bianca. I'm not a good guy, and August brings a whole new meaning to the word _slut_ , but neither of us tried to kill her."

August was a complete and total _bitch_ , and she'd been smart enough to set him up, but Carl didn't believe that made her guilty of attempted murder. He wished it did -maybe then they'd lock her up and he'd never be tempted to go crawling back to her for Jay again- but he couldn't accuse her of a crime he knew she was too selfish to commit.

August wanted her stepdaughter _alive_ , if only so she could rub her victories in her face. Even the hollow ones.

"Carl-" Hank started.

Looking up, Carl's face hardened and he glared at Nick. "I'm _done_."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm done with everything." He tried to clench his fists but his shaking fingers wouldn't cooperate. "I'm done hoping things will get better, I'm done waiting on myself to get smarter, and -most of all- I'm done answering your stupid questions. None of this is going to help Bianca. So I'm _done_." He turned his head away. "I have nothing else to say to you. So you might as well just cut off my head now and get it over with."

Nick saw what was going on. Carl had tried to make his turning away look tough, but Nick's sharp eyes saw the three tears that escaped and rolled down the side of his face. More than that, they saw -and took serious notice of- his hands. Their bad color, the way they had the jitters... Add that to the fact that Carl Fieri was Wesen, and Nick had a pretty damn good idea of exactly what was wrong with this kid.

He was a junkie, just like Bianca's uncles thought. But now Nick knew it wasn't crack or dope Carl was so severely addicted to and having painful withdrawals from.

Twisting his mouth in pretend pensiveness, Nick got up and motioned for Hank to leave the room with him.

"We got any idea if this kid's covering up for August?"

"I don't know, Hank." Nick shrugged. "But what I do know is he's not going to tell us anything else. He's serious about that."

"So what, we just let him go?" Hank didn't look too happy about the idea.

Nick shook his head. "No. I said he won't talk to _us_."

"Yeah, so? We don't have anything to hold him here, if he decides to use his right to remain silent now..."

"Maybe he'll talk to somebody else," Nick suggested. "Somebody who's not a Grimm. Somebody he can relate to; somebody who's been where he is right now."

Hank blinked. "Like who?"

Nick pulled his iphone out, preparing to make a call. "I think I know someone."

* * *

Alone at last, Gretel tore at the clear plastic tape over the box and forced it open, grunting slightly.

What _was_ it Sean Renard could have sent her -could even have _had_ \- that belonged to her mother?

With curious, tingling fingertips, she reached in and pulled out a slender but curvy wooden object with a glowing reddish-orange sphere in the middle.

It was something only the very best Hexenbiest would have known how to use. Only a truly powerful witch could own such an object, let alone use one to channel and enhance her skills.

It was a the wand of a grand white Hexenbiest.

Captain Renard had given her Adrianna's wand.

Did he expect her to know how to use it? Or _learn_ how?

Doing that would only mean admitting she was as much Hexenbiest as she was Grimm, and even now Gretel wasn't ready to do that. She was a _Grimm_. Her and her brother both. It was what and who they were, part of what bonded them together. That they were both Grimms was just as important to their identities as the fact that they were twins, or siblings at all.

Hansel was Adrianna's too, but he'd never been able to woge. The Grimm blood in him must have overpowered it somehow, maybe because he was male. His Grimm senses could have come in later and stronger and never left room for any Zauberbiest genes to manifest themselves.

She could never know for sure, of course. This was only speculation. Thanks to the vengeful Verrat, she and Hansel would never have parents to explain the details.

And how could she ever explain to Nick that half of her biological make up matched that of the Hexenbiests she'd always hated so passionately? He would be disgusted. It would be like one big lie to him, and after he'd been a good friend to her, taking her in and trusting her almost without question...

Gretel bit her lower lip, held the wand's stem tightly in her hand for one long minute, as if that drew her to her dead mother for just that moment, then let go and slipped it back into the box.

That was where the wand needed to stay. She wasn't about to start strutting around her fellow Grimm's house waving a Hexenbiest's wand like it was some kind of dark Wesen free for all.

Gretel had absolutely _no_ intention of embracing her darker side.

So it needed to go back in the box and be tucked away with her other weapons.

For now, anyway.

* * *

If Carl hadn't been so apathetic, he might have wondered when Hank and Nick were going to let him out. The Grimm and his partner couldn't keep him in the interrogation room forever... But, frankly, he didn't care. If they forgot him, left him there to rot, it was no less than he deserved. Maybe he should just throw himself onto the floor, curl up in a little ball, and die right beside his chair.

That was when he heard the door creaking open again.

"I told you, I-" He stopped, blinking at the woman who'd entered. "You're not the Grimm."

She woged, revealing her fox-like face. Fuchsbau; not a threat.

The presence of another Wesen would have made him feel more relaxed if the blood in his veins didn't already feel like slow-moving ice washing out his emotions until there was nothing but numbness left -a bad feeling for a natural _fire_ creature like a Daemonfeuer to be stuck with.

"Who are you?"

The woman glanced at his shaking hands. It was hard to say for sure, from just one look, but if she had to bet on it, she'd say Nick had guessed right. This Carl Fieri was a hardcore Jay addict who'd hit rock bottom.

"Why you looking at me like that?"

She took a step towards him. "My name's Rosalee Calvert. I know you don't want to talk to the cops, but I also know you need help."

* * *

The so-called 'man' who ran the mental institution on Abby Avenue in Henderson, Nevada had prided himself on always doing his job and doing it unbelievably well.

In actuality a Löwen, he had never once handed over a patient. Not even to pleading and crying family members. Sometimes he had to go into a full woge just to scare their insistent whiny little asses off when nothing else worked. It might have been reckless, but it wasn't like anyone was going to _believe_ them. And it generally kept them away, after they ran off in terror, if you didn't count the ones who ended up coming back as patients _themselves_...

One reason this Löwen prided himself on keeping his supposed patients prisoners was that -more often than not- he was holding them for someone special. Usually someone of tremendous influence. He'd even held secondhand prisoners for distant _royalty_ before, under the orders of someone else hired to take the heat, less it become known that a royal was allowing such a wild Wesen to work for them.

Of course, he'd just as often held prisoners for plain, boring thugs who just happened to have a lot of spare cash. Payment was payment, as far as the Löwen was concerned.

And he never, ever did anything that would make even a _possibility_ of his not getting his money at the end of a job.

But, then again, he'd never, ever met anyone quite like Ariel Eberthart.

Ariel had strutted, in a delightfully high-hiked miniskirt, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders and down her back, right up to the front desk. Her smooth talking worked wonders on the Löwen who, for all his stubbornness, wasn't exactly the brightest lion-faced guy to ever walk the planet.

And when this striking young woman had gone and woged into a Daemonfeuer right before his eyes, he was as good as putty in her hands.

Yes, yes, of _course_ she could see this particular patient they'd been holding. The one with the ability to see things others could not; this dangerous rare catch of a lifetime. Yes, certainly he believed she'd been sent to pick him up.

He _didn't_ , really, but he couldn't say that; he didn't want to upset her, didn't want her attentions going away from him, for that seductive smile to leave her face, replaced by a disappointed frown... So no, he definitely did not need to see any further proof of ID. Not for a lovely creature such as her; he'd never accuse her of lying to him. _Never_!

Ariel smirked to herself as the Löwen led her down the white-and-gray hallway, telling her over his shoulder to ignore the pathetic cries of the rooms and padded cells they slipped past. This _was_ a mental hospital, she had to understand, there was naturally a lot of screaming; she really shouldn't pay it any serious mind.

"Of course not," Ariel agreed with her most pleasing grin.

The Löwen melted like a kitten in the sun. Even if the Daemonfeuer babe _was_ a liar, ready to rob him, this was one time he was glad to lose. He was so close to her now he could feel her body heat and smell her perfume. She was so _sane_ , unlike the mad, sobbing, screaming, cursing females he so often had to deal with. This was the closest he'd ever had to a real love affair, and he was soaking up each moment. Soon she'd be gone, taking what was probably the most valuable prisoner in the entire institution with her, but he would always have this borderline erotic memory.

At least, in his mind -mainly imagination, however limited the faculties in that department were- it was erotic.

If not erotic, then it _was_ sensual. Very sensual.

"Here we are." The Löwen opened a door to a -surprisingly sparsely- padded cell.

Inside, a shivering, shirtless young man sustaining too many bruises to count, his eyes half-closed from exhaustion, was chained by his wrists to a wall. He was probably screaming and trying to throw the few parts of his body he could still move roughly into the nearest wall earlier, but now he'd worn himself out, looking all the worse for it.

Ariel cocked her head at the Löwen. "You could have taken better care of him." She pouted, pursing her lips instead of frowning, which only excited the besotted Löwen even further. "He's not in great shape."

"He's been difficult to us," he explained. "Our policy here is to be difficult right back. It's the only way they learn to control themselves, you know."

She wasn't convinced.

Trying to appease her, the Löwen offered, "I suppose taking his shirt away was a tad unnecessary, though."

Ariel smiled and arched an eyebrow, nodding in the man's direction. "Oh, no... I'd say that's the one part you got right." He wasn't the sort of man who young women like Ariel didn't _enjoy_ seeing shirtless. Suffering and beat up (and obviously poorly fed), not so much; but the whole bare muscles thing was kind of a turn on...

The Löwen inwardly contemplated taking off his _own_ shirt to get Ariel's attention back on _him_ for the few more minutes he had left with her, then decided against it.

"You _sure_ it's him?" Ariel raised her arched eyebrow up higher.

"How could I prove it to you?"

Opening his eyes, the prisoner/patient lifted his head and looked straight at Ariel with tired hatred. He didn't bother craning his neck any further to see the Löwen; he'd seen the lion-faced monster enough times during his stay here. Ariel was most likely a monster, too -most people that came in here were- but at least she was a _new_ one.

"Rumor is he screams a name out in his sleep," Ariel said, pushing back her hair and leaning in closer to the Löwen so that her breath tickled his ear. "What's the name?"

" _Gretel_."


	8. Oh Happy Dagger

Chapter 8: Oh Happy Dagger

Going for an early morning run, Nick rounded a bend at an intensely fast pace. He wasn't even paying attention to the two high school girls running -at the moment before he passed them- a couple feet in front of him.

But they sure as hell noticed _him_.

The sun was barely up, they'd gone out jogging to work off all the sugar they'd consumed the night before at a slumber party, and they were in a secluded area. True, they were barely three miles from the house they'd had the slumber party at, but they were not particularly _bright_ girls, nor were they the best at judging situations at face value.

So when they saw some tough-looking guy in a hooded sweatshirt, running up behind them, not even panting -like he'd come out of nowhere, maybe even been _hiding in wait_ for them- they panicked.

One of them squealed so perfectly it would have made a _Bauerschwein_ green with envy and, ducking, covered her turned head pathetically with her crossed arms, palms facing up.

Her friend was too busy shrieking, "Kill me last! Kill me last!" at the top of her lungs to do any ducking or squealing of her own.

Nick stopped and blinked at them. He had assumed -by their reaction- that they _had_ to be Wesen, but as soon as he'd come to a grinding halt to reassure them he wasn't about to cut their heads off, it became apparent that neither of them where woging. Not even the involuntarily woge that only a Grimm can see. These were just regular girls. _Kehrseite_. As in _definitely_ not Wesen.

Gretel came around the same bend Nick had just cleared a moment ago. The ironic thing, she couldn't help thinking, looking at the pitiful girls with involuntarily disdain, was that if they hadn't started screaming their effing heads off like that, Nick wouldn't have even stopped to beginning with. He'd have just kept running, minding his own business. It sickened her sometimes how stupid young women who didn't know any better -but _should_ , obviously- could be.

Unlike Nick, Gretel was a little out of breath. _She_ couldn't run for miles without draining some energy (though, everything considered, she was doing a fantastic job keeping up with her fellow Grimm overall).

"Stop screaming," she panted down at the girls, snagging the wrist of the squealer and pulling her to her feet. "And, just so you know, when a real mugger comes after you, _this_ -" Here Gretel stopped and crossed her wrists loosely in front of her face in a bad parody of what the ducking girl had done "-isn't going to save you."

Nick sucked in his lips to hold back a laugh. As a detective, he knew how scary this situation must be to these clueless girls, and he'd investigated enough _real_ cases of people killed while out for a harmless jog that Gretel's no nonsense advice shouldn't have been _funny_ to him. If he'd been an actual attacker, these girls would've been dead five seconds ago.

Still, his body shook from the repressed laughter, giving his amusement away.

"Try to stay out of trouble," Nick told them when he was finally able to speak without cracking up. "Come on, Gretel, I'll race you back."

When they arrived back at the house, Juliette was waiting for them with freshly brewed coffee, which she poured into two mugs.

Nick sat down at the table and took a swig of his coffee like he'd just gone out to get the mail.

Gretel gulped hers down like it was water. Despite the fact that she'd kept reasonably hydrated the entire time she'd been out running, keeping up with Nick had left her thirsty. Not to mention sweaty. She swallowed the last sip and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist.

Juliette noticed. "Geez, Gretel. You okay?"

Gretel nodded and forced the same easy-going smile she'd have made herself use even if she _hadn't_ been okay. "Yeah. Never better."

"Can I get you some more coffee?" she offered, glancing down at Gretel's empty mug. Nick still had more than half of his.

Gretel stretched and shook her head. "No, thanks. If it's all right with you, I could use a shower." She looked at Nick. " _Some_ of us actually still perspire around here."

Nick chuckled at that, and Gretel felt an unexpected sense of warmth rising up from her stomach at his friendly reaction. She wasn't sure why she felt this way. Nick had _always_ been nice to her, more or less, so it was nothing new. But the developing easiness between them had this almost comforting inward _glow_ that was only growing and spreading as she got to known her fellow Grimm better.

It wasn't exactly what she felt for Ben, or even Hansel, though it wasn't _unlike_ that in some ways. There was a kinship to it, a wanting to protect and fight alongside -even when fighting _with_ \- Nick, but there was something _more_ to it.

Something Gretel couldn't put her finger on.

She knew by this point (even if she'd never have admitted it) that the more time she spent with Nicholas Burkhardt -fighting or talking or otherwise- the more time she _wanted_ to spend with him. As for _why_ , in the end, Gretel always left herself with no choice but to chalk it up to it simply being that -aside from her brother- she'd never had another Grimm for a friend. She made herself believe that it _had_ to be normal; that all Grimms who weren't directly related felt these kinds of growing attachments to one another that differed slightly -in feeling if not in intensity- from what they felt for, say, their brothers or sisters or even close cousins. Perhaps it was some kind of survival gene in their blood, urging them to aid one another.

To let herself think, even just to speculate, it could be something else was too painful.

If -they _wer_ e _n't_ , but _if_ \- the new feelings Gretel had were because she liked her fellow Grimm as more than just a friend, the idea of waking up on his couch every day until she could get back on her own two feet -either find Hansel or else find it in herself to do the unthinkable and give up believing he was still alive somewhere- to Nick and his beautiful, utterly perfect girlfriend kissing their hellos and goodbyes every morning in their idyllic house in their lovely little Portland neighborhood, the anguish would be too much for _any_ woman to deal with.

Gretel could rip out a Hexenbiest's heart and feed it to a pack of howling Coyomen without batting an eye, but the kind of hurt she'd be headed for if she was stupid enough to fall for Nick Burkhardt was in a class all by itself.

Even right then, as she headed for the stairs so she could take a shower and wash the stink of their run off herself, looking back over her shoulder and glimpsing Juliette putting her arms around Nick's neck and lifting her face to his for a kiss, would have been a stab of pain worse than any injury any Wesen was capable of leaving her with.

Which was why it was lucky, she occasionally had to remind herself, that _wasn't_ the case.

* * *

Rosalee was just closing up the shop, locking up for the evening, when she heard someone coming up behind her. She spun around quickly, just to make sure that -if it was someone who wanted trouble- they didn't sneak up on her.

It was Carl Fieri, the Daemonfeuer Nick had had her talk to down at the precinct. "Hey, Rosalee."

"Hey." She smiled weakly. "I told you we don't sell Jay here, Carl." Her brother Freddie had once, but those days were over.

He shook his head. That wasn't why he'd come. He wouldn't have expected a former addict to be trading in the stuff anyway; the urge to get back into it yourself would be too much temptation for even the strongest Wesen. He was here for Rosalee herself. Ariel was gone, he still didn't trust the Grimm as far as he could spit, and a Fuchsbau wasn't _so_ different from a Daemonfeuer in some ways -they were both known for their cunning, as well as their many vices.

Besides, the Grimm had been right about _one_ thing. Rosalee's former addiction to Jay made her someone Carl could truly relate to, someone who just might understand everything he was going through.

From the withdrawal pains to the self-hating, Rosalee had likely experienced it all to a degree.

There was something weighing on his mind now, and Carl doubted anyone -least of all that psycho Grimm- would believe him if he spoke up and voiced his fears. But Rosalee Calvert _just might_. She was friends with the Grimm, and that alone should have made her untrustworthy, but -then again- Ariel wasn't (in _her_ mind, though Nick himself might beg to differ) the Grimm's mortal enemy either... She'd even helped another Grimm -a female- fight a Reaper...

Carl took a deep breath. "Can we talk?"

"I'm just closing up the shop," Rosalee tried.

"Please?"

"Look, I-" He hadn't been exactly _chatty_ , even after she broke through the ice (thanks to their common ground), in the interrogation room, so she wasn't expecting a miraculous breakthrough now.

Carl understood. "If you think I secretly think you're hoarding Jay in that shop and I'm only trying to get in, attack you, and steal some..." He took his hands out of his pockets. "I'm _not_. Look, I'm not even shaking that bad no more."

Rosalee fought the urge to let her expression soften, giving him a cynical look instead. "You get a fix from somewhere?"

He shook his head rapidly, like there was a bee caught in his ears. "No."

She stared into his eyes for a moment. For a Daemonfeuer, he wasn't the toughest kid on the block; she'd break him, if he was lying.

"I _swear_ ," he insisted.

Rosalee sighed, deciding to believe he was telling the truth. She turned the key back in the shop door's lock. "Okay."

* * *

"Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?" Ariel straightened her spine in the back booth of the diner they were eating in and stared across the table at the so-called 'John Doe' Grimm she'd checked out of a mental institution in Nevada only a few days ago and driven all this way back to Portland with.

"You're one of them," he said, swallowing at the wad of fries he'd just shoved into his mouth and tried -somewhat unsuccessfully- to wash down with the large Diet Pepsi the waitress had already refilled twice for him. "Your face changed too."

Ariel snorted. "So you assume where there's a woge there's a monster? At least _I_ can eat like a normal person, John."

"I'm _starving_ ," he retorted, taking a large bite out of a burger the size of his head. "And you're _not_ normal."

"Fine. See if I ever save your ass again."

"And who the eff's John?"

" _You're_ John," Ariel told him. "John Doe."

"God, I hate that," he said flatly. "That's not my name."

"Do you remember your real name?"

He shook his head. "But I think you know it and aren't telling me."

"Better that you hear it from her."

" _Her_...?"

"You'll see."

"Is she a monster, too?"

"I'm not a monster, _John_ ," she insisted, making her tone heavy on the name he hated out of annoyance.

"I'm sorry," he amended. "You _did_ save me. And you're not like that other one."

"You mean the Löwen?"

It was right on the tip of his tongue to ask what the eff a Löwen was, when something in his mind dimly _clicked_ , telling him Ariel meant that lion-faced jerk who'd run the institution.

"Maybe I _am_ crazy..." He shook his head again. "But, no, I meant this... _cellmate_...they gave me at one point... He was like a beast from hell when his face changed... I felt like I should be killing him, to protect...to stop... I don't know."

"Let me guess. Rotting skin, threatening eyes?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Zauberbiest." Ariel shrugged one shoulder and stirred a raspberry milkshake with her straw. That must have given the Löwen a laugh, tormenting a Grimm whose specialty was Hexenbiest head-chopping by giving him some quality time with a Zauberbiest...

" _Zauberbiest_..." he echoed.

"John, you okay?"

"I killed Zauberbiests..." He stared over Ariel's shoulder for a moment, his mind grasping at something that was so close yet so far. "Hexenbiests, most often..."

"What else?"

"We're Grimms."

"We?"

"What?"

"You said _we_..."

"I said I."

"No, you said we."

"It doesn't matter."

Ariel disagreed. "What else can you remember?"

"I remember that I have diabetes and I don't trust Daemonfeuers." He raised an eyebrow at her. "No offense."

"I'll try not to take that too personal." She smirked tightly. "Anything else?"

He tried, strained himself mentally, grasping at the fuzzy edges of his mind, but nothing was coming. Not even his real name. "There's nothing else."

"What about the name you scream in your sleep?"

He blinked in blank confusion. This was the first he'd heard of it. No one had thought to tell _him_ that he cried out for someone every night until his voice went hoarse, never remembering in the morning. "What name?"

* * *

Snuggled up with Nick on the couch, watching _Jeopardy_ , Juliette tried to tune out the grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard sound of Gretel sharpening a dagger down at the other end.

She was relieved when the doorbell finally rang, because hard as she tried to ignore it, the noise -not unlike the woman who was _making_ it- was chafing more than ever on her nerves. It hadn't seemed to matter how loud she'd turned up the volume; the _Jeopardy_ theme was still barely audible above the scratchy sharpening sound that was getting deeper under her skin with each smooth scrape.

Somehow, Nick wasn't fazed. He didn't look up, even once, from the screen, over at Gretel. With his enhanced hearing, Juliette wondered how that was even _possible_. His senses were far more heightened than hers, and yet it was as if the sound didn't have any effect on _him_ whatsoever.

So at the first _dong_ of the bell, Juliette lightly kicked off the knitted blanket she had over her legs, untangled herself from Nick's arms, and went for the door.

With a faint grunt, Nick switched off the TV and followed, Gretel not far behind, slipping her now perfectly sharpened dagger into a sheath she had fastened around the waist of her leather pants.

"You expecting anyone?" Juliette asked.

She was addressing Nick, but it was Gretel that shook her head no. And yet there was a strange look on her face; she was going pale and she chewed on her lower lip.

"Gretel?" Nick glanced back at her, concerned.

She shook her head again. "It's nothing. I just..." She rubbed her forehead with her thumb. "This is going to sound crazy, but I thought I heard my brother's voice."

"Gretel, even if he was standing right behind that door, which is pretty doubtful, there's no way you could have heard him in here," Juliette pointed out, trying to be gentle. "I'm sorry."

"Are you planning on finding out who _is_ at the door?" Gretel replied, a little tersely.

Wordlessly, Juliette unlocked the door and swung it open.

Standing impatiently under the porch light, bathed in an orange glow like the devil herself, was Ariel Eberhart.

"Oh, _shit_!" Nick muttered under his breath.

Juliette's eyes widened. " _You_."

"Yeah, _me_..." Ariel glanced past her at Nick and Gretel. "Hello again. Glad to see my two favorite Grimms have made friends."

"You're dead..." Juliette said hollowly, staring at Ariel like she was a ghost come back to haunt them (she almost _was_ ).

"Yeah, I've really got to do something about that rumor," Ariel sighed. "It's starting to be a real inconvenience." She looked briefly at Juliette, then back at Nick. "I was hoping you'd have helped me out and spread the word. I'm a little disappointed in you, Nick."

" _Wait_..." Juliette whirled on Nick. "You _knew_ she was alive?"

"Kind of." Nick winced.

"You knew and you didn't _tell_ me?" She gaped at him in disbelief. "When did you find out about this?"

"When he met Gretel," Ariel said offhandedly, like it didn't matter. "Now can we please get back on track here? I'm a busy woman."

"Gretel's been here a while." Juliette fumed, her expression hardening. "You deliberately left out the part about the bitch who kidnapped me still being alive. How _could_ you, Nick?"

"Look, Juliette, it's not what you think..." Nick tried. "I wanted to _protect_ you."

Juliette swallowed, almost _shaking_ with anger. "I thought we were through with that crap, Nick. You promised no more secrets..."

"I-" he started weakly.

"Um, _the bitch_ is still standing here..." Ariel reminded them, doing air quotes on 'bitch'.

"Go away," Juliette told her. "You're not welcome here. If you don't get off my porch right now, Nick's going to arrest you."

Ariel cocked her head. " _Please_ tell me you're not still mad about the whole taking you to my dad's lair thing. I did what I had to do so my father could die with dignity. Get over it already."

"You have five seconds to get out of here," Juliette growled.

"Take it easy," Ariel all but purred, still cool as a cucumber. "As it happens, this isn't about me. I have someone in my van who I think Gretel might want to see."

"We don't _care_ ," Juliette snapped. " _Get_ off my property."

"You're really going to be like that?" Ariel fake-pouted. "After he came all this way?"

Gretel found she was holding her breath. Almost involuntarily, she slipped past Juliette and Nick and heard herself say, "I want to see him." It was like something inside her -a gut instinct that was throbbing like a heartbeat- knew who was in Ariel's van without being told.

Ariel smiled accommodatingly. "As you wish." She stepped off the porch and opened the passenger door of her van (parked impertinently in Nick's driveway, too close for comfort to Juliette's fender).

"Come on, John, it's okay." A moment later, Ariel was moving aside and letting a tall young man step into the light in her place.

Gretel felt her chest tighten and her windpipe all but close. " _Hansel_..."

He smiled, but there was no warmth in the smile, no recognition. "Hello."

Gretel choked on her own sobs, holding out her now trembling hands to him. "Oh, God, Hansel, you're all right..."

The name rang a bell, and he liked it much better than 'John' at any rate, but the woman who spoke it -who told him what Ariel wouldn't- was a stranger to him. "Yeah..." He was standoffish, backing away, not even letting her hands make the slightest contact with his.

Even overjoyed beyond reason, Gretel wasn't an idiot. She knew her own twin well enough to figure out he had absolutely no clue who she was. "Hansel, you know who I am, don't you?"

"Yeah...of course..."

She also knew him well enough to spot a lie. "No, you don't." Her eyes darted over to Ariel. "Why is he pretending?"

"Oh, he's probably just being polite," Ariel suggested. "It's extremely rude to just blurt out 'who are _you_?' when you don't recognize someone."

Nick didn't mean to, but his eyes shifted -almost automatically- to Juliette.

She was still furious with him. "Oh, don't _even_..."

"What did you _do_ to him?" Gretel demanded, turning on Ariel.

" _Do_ to him?" Ariel gasped, putting her hand to her heart, somehow looking both wounded and cocky all at once. " _I_ did nothing! I _rescued_ him and brought him _back_ to you. Is it just me or does ingratitude run in your family?"

"I'm sorry." Gretel believed Ariel. The Daemonfeuer had no reason to take away Hansel's memory, or inflict the bruises and other injures she could both see and sense on his body. "Hansel...it's me...it's _Gretel_..."

It was then that disaster struck. Gretel got so emotional that every care she'd ever put into practice to keep her Hexenbiest heritage a secret even from other Grimms faded like a foggy mist when the sun comes out.

Nick and Juliette were standing behind her, so they didn't see her woge. Ariel didn't either, since she was looking at Nick. Only Hansel saw. And, in a flash, he was back in a padded cell being tormented by a Zauberbiest. That Gretel's woge was so minimal didn't matter. He only saw an enemy. Maybe he didn't fully trust the Daemonfeuer who'd rescued him, but he didn't see any immediate need to kill her. She'd done him a good turn and so could be considered 'on probation' so to speak. But this was a _Hexenbiest_. An evil, deadly creature, pretending to be all friendly and concerned for him. And why else would Ariel have _really_ brought him here, if not to do a job? This must be her _real_ motive... Little sense though it actually made.

It must be quick, that much Hansel knew. Without knowing where the knowledge came from, Hansel was aware that this Hexenbiest was fast.

He had a knife he'd taken from the diner. Of course he'd need a better weapon eventually, but stealing the steak knife at least made him feel protected for the time being. Now it seemed he'd have to use it.

Feigning sentiment, Hansel edged closer to Gretel, letting his lower lip tremble ever so slightly. "Gretel..."

Gretel came forward for an embrace. But she was not as taken in as she seemed. Sensing the knife coming for her belly as he pulled himself close to her, her hand shot out like a viper, snagging his wrist, holding it back. She knew him too well. Even like this, tortured and mentally unstable, she _knew_ her twin.

Unfortunately, even if his mind didn't remember his twin sister, his beloved Gretel, Hansel's muscles had forgotten nothing of her cleverness and speed. Which was probably why, from one brief moment of assessing the situation, he'd known that the knife supposedly intended for her abdomen would never make contact.

Instead, with his other hand, while she focused wide-eyed and distressed on his face and the hand she held back, slipped so easily into her sheath and pulled out her own freshly sharpened dagger, thrusting it into her side.

Gretel had never been more shocked or horrified in her life. She hadn't seen it coming, and as much as the stab itself hurt, Hansel's rejection of her -because of the trace of rotting Hexenbiest flesh he'd seen in her face- was the deeper hurt. She understood it, in her mind, but her heart didn't. Faces changed, but souls didn't. If Hansel had suddenly gotten the ability to woge in front of _her_ , all she'd ever need was to look into his eyes and know it was still him. And then she couldn't hurt him. Nothing in the world could make her hurt her brother.

He'd looked straight into her eyes as she held back his first blow, keeping that knife away, and he'd _still_ tried to kill her.

Maybe, for all she knew, feeling herself grow weaker by the second, he'd even succeeded.

However, Hansel's own conscience didn't let him off as cleanly as he thought. No sooner had the blade found itself embedded in Gretel's flesh, causing blood to spew out freely, leaving a dark red stain forming on the side of her clothes all around the entry point, than he felt as if he'd committed a monstrous taboo. He felt a phantom ache in his own side, numb and not fatal, but bad enough to let him know he'd as good as stabbed _himself_ in the bargain.

Gretel sank to the ground, with barely a croak dying on her lips as she bled and shivered.

"Gretel!" Juliette bent down next to her and took her hand.

Even Ariel's eyes filled with tears. She hadn't brought Hansel here for _this_...

Nick, horrified at the sight of his friend -his fellow Grimm, who he'd fought with and _cared_ about- crumbling to the floor with a dagger sticking out just above her hip, lunged forward and punched Hansel, as hard as he could, in the face.


	9. The Only Good Hexenbiest

Chapter 9: The Only Good Hexenbiest

Gretel woke with the feeling that her brain was sinking into a giant marshmallow. There was a sharp pain behind her closed eyes, and a mechanical beeping sound buzzed in her ears.

Her eyelids crinkled and the space above her nose between her eyebrows throbbed as she forced herself to open her eyes and take in her surroundings.

White light practically burned into her vision. Was she dead?

No, a blurry but very unangelic figure was materializing above her. A man's shape. His face refused to come into focus.

Her voice as soft and unguarded as it was in her early childhood, she croaked out, "Hansel?" _Hansel where_ am _I? I'm_ scared _..._

"No, Gretel, it's me. It's Nick."

" _Nick_?" she heard herself groan.

His face cleared, and so did her mind. Suddenly it all came flooding back to her. The initial separation from Hansel, meeting Ariel, meeting -and becoming friends with- Nick, her less than ideal reunion with her lost brother... The stabbing, so unexpected and painful... Blood...dizziness...disbelief...

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she grunted.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Gretel frowned. "I was stabbed in the side by my _brother_ , who's going to forget _that_?"

Nick inhaled sharply and raised his brow. "Point taken."

She started to sit up, straightening her torso in the bed, ignoring the painful pull of thick stitches on her side. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," Nick told her.

"Hansel." She glanced around, searching, but Nick was the only person with her in the room. "What happened to him?"

"Nothing," Nick said coldly, his jawline tightening. " _Yet_." He sighed and folded his arms across his chest, rolling his eyes. "Unless you count the fact that I punched him in the face and broke his nose after he stabbed you."

"Effing hell," Gretel muttered under her breath.

"Gretel, I'm so sorry this..." Nick's voice trailed off. What did you say to a friend who was betrayed by the person they loved most?

Looking for a distraction, a subject changer, Gretel suddenly found one. In one corner of the room were piles of flowers, teddy bears, and cards all the colors of the rainbow, high enough that they almost reached the window. And the little table to the side of this gift pile was full of cakes, pies, mini-muffins, cupcakes, and various other pastries. There were also half a dozen random woven straw fruit baskets thrown in.

"Where did all this come from?"

Nick chuckled. "Bud and his Eisbiber friends have been dropping them off since you were admitted."

"Oh, geez."

"Seems like you made quite the impression."

"Not cutting off his head and saying hi gives me points?" Gretel quipped.

"Surprisingly, Bud tends to really appreciate that," Nick replied with a slight smirk.

Gretel smiled. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Just until the doctor discharges you," he told her. "You've lost a lot of blood tonight."

"How long was I out?"

"An hour or so." Nick tried to sound casual about it. He didn't mention that each minute had _felt_ like an hour to _him_ , that he'd been inwardly panicking they'd lost her. That the wound was fatal and his friend would _never_ wake up.

The door swung open and Monroe walked in. "Hey, how's she doing?"

Nick waved at the bed. "Ask her yourself."

"Monroe? What are you doing here?"

"Nick called me," said Monroe. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry about what happened. Not exactly the warm, fuzzy family reunion you'd hoped for, huh?"

Gretel shrugged.

"Been there a couple of times myself... Not that I've ever been, you know, actually _stabbed_..."

Nick cocked his head at him. "Monroe, I'm not sure that's helping."

"It's fine," Gretel said. "It is what it is."

"Where's Rosalee?" Nick noticed she hadn't come in with Monroe.

"I don't know," Monroe said, sounding a little concerned. "She wasn't at the house. She took a lot longer than usual to get back from closing up the shop; I was still waiting up for her when you called."

"Did you try her cell?"

"Of course I tried her cell, man." Monroe rolled his eyes. "It went straight to voicemail."

"I'm sure she's okay," Nick said.

"Yeah, her battery might have died or she could have turned the phone off for a consultation with a a costumer and forgotten to turn it back on..." Monroe sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. "You know what? I'm going to call the landline at the shop, just in case..." He gave Gretel a quick comforting smile and, taking his iphone out of his pocket and scrawling through contacts, left the way he'd come in.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Nick told her, following. "I'll be right back."

"Sure." Gretel waited until they were both gone, and then, looking into the dark reflective glass of the nearest monitor, went into a woge.

It really was no wonder Hansel had tried to kill her, siblings or not. It had _always_ been his way to destroy anyone with a trace of Hexenbiest rot in their face on first sight, ask questions and scruple with morals later. _She'd_ always been the one who required proof and closer examination of the situation first.

When they'd been a team, they had balanced each other out. He'd been firm and decisive where Gretel might have been too lenient, and she'd made him stop and think every once in a while, considering each situation more individually.

Together, they were an idealistic pair of Hexenbiest-killing Grimms. Apart, they were monsters, almost _worse_ in some ways than the ones they fought against. Hansel was a Wesen murderer with no conscience (he wasn't a bad person, but _Gretel_ had always been his conscience, so much so that he'd never truly developed one on his own, leaving almost all mortality traits entirely to his sister's judgment); and she, Gretel, was just some traitorous Hexenbiest offspring masquerading as the _complete_ Grimm she so badly wanted to be.

* * *

Nick was coming back from the coffee machine with a paper cup full of some liquid vaguely like actual coffee in texture but rather like hairy ass in taste. Oh well, at least it had real caffeine in it...

Monroe, still in the hallway outside of Gretel's room, was talking into his iphone. "Yeah, hang on, Rosalee, he's right here." He held out the phone to Nick. "She wants to talk to you."

"She's still at the shop?" Nick asked.

"Apparently, yeah." Monroe shrugged and dangled the iphone a little closer to him.

"Rosalee," Nick said into the phone. "Where've you been? Monroe was-"

On the other end, Rosalee clutched the spice shop's phone a little tighter and interrupted him. "Nick, listen, there's something-"

"One, two, three, _clear_!" A catatonic man with almost no pulse was being wheeled by on a stretcher while two paramedics tried to zap him back into consciousness with a defibrillator, slamming the paddles down onto his bare chest.

"Sorry, what was that?" Even with his enhanced hearing, Nick was having a hard time figuring out what Rosalee was saying over the noise. "You're going to have to talk a little louder. I'm in the hospital."

" _CLEAR_!"

"The _hospital_..." Nick repeat-shouted into the iphone. He plugged his ear that wasn't next to the iphone's speaker with his index finger. "I said-"

The man's stretcher was further along the hallway now. But before Nick could stop shouting and listen to whatever it was Rosalee was trying to tell him, _Hank_ appeared, a little breathless, coming down the same end of the hall as the paramedics had a second ago.

"Hey, Nick, how'd you know to come here?" Hank asked, confused. "I was just about to call you."

"Hold on," he said into the iphone, taking his finger out of his ear and putting his hand over the receiver. Looking up at Hank with a lowered brow, he blurted, "What are you talking about?"

"Bianca Snowlight's been poisoned again," Hank told him. "They just admitted her into the ICU a few minutes ago... That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"What?" Nick gasped, blinking at his partner in shock. "I had no idea... I'm here because Gretel got stabbed."

" _What_?" Hank's jaw dropped slightly. "When did _this_ happen?"

"Like an hour and a half ago."

"Is she going to be all right?"

"The doctors think she'll pull through," Nick told him. "She'll just be a little weak from the blood loss for a couple days."

"Who stab-" He stopped. "No, I got a feeling this is going to be a long story, and we've got a job to do. We can talk about this later. Come on, Nick."

Taking his hand off the receiver, Nick quickly said, "Sorry, Rosalee, this is going to have to wait, the Snowlight girl's been poisoned again. She's back in the hospital."

* * *

"Nick, wait, I have to-" Rosalee tried as the line went dead.

"What did he say?" Carl, leaning against the counter, wanted to know.

"He hung up." She put the landline back in place.

Carl gritted his teeth. "I knew trusting the Grimm was a bad idea."

"Carl, it's not his fault," Rosalee said gently. "He's really busy right now."

"Not his fault?" snapped Carl, woging out of rage. "That damn Grimm's probably just blowing you off because he's a-"

"Bianca's back in the hospital, Carl." She watched as the fire went out of him and he blanched, his normal face returning. "She's been poisoned again. You know Nick's the detective assigned to her case; he's doing his job."

" _Jesus_." Carl stumbled backwards and almost fell, just barely gripping the edge of the counter again before he did so.

"He's _helping_ her," Rosalee continued, as soon as she saw he'd gotten himself stabilized. "And if you care about her as much as you say you do, then you'd swallow your pride and help her too."

"What, just like barge into that hospital and be all, 'Oy, you, Grimm, this is going to sound crazy but I think one of Bianca's uncles might be the one trying to kill her'?"

"Sounds like a start." She folded her arms across her chest and shrugged.

Carl snorted in disbelief. " _I_ thought I was nuts to even think that could be a possibility. They'll just haul me off to a mental house someplace."

"You told _me_ ," Rosalee pointed out.

"You're different," Carl mumbled, more to the counter-top than Rosalee herself. "I thought maybe I could trust you. Because we've been through the same kind of thing."

"You _can_ trust me," she insisted. "And I know you don't think so, but you can trust Nick, too."

He scratched nervously behind his neck. "Yeah, right."

"Look, do you want to save her or not?" Rosalee grabbed her keys. "Because I'm locking up the shop and I'm going down to that hospital. And I'm going to tell Nick what you told me. Because if there's even a small chance you're right, there's _every_ chance speaking up now could save her life. So _I'm_ going. But you have a choice, Carl. You can come with me, or you can stand on the sidewalk outside and watch me drive away. Your choice, but you have to make it fast."

"I don't have any proof," Carl huffed, agitated. "Who's going to believe me?"

"I believe you," She started walking to the door, looking back at him over her shoulder once she reached it. "So... You're _coming_?"

* * *

"Gretel?"

She looked up to see Hansel poking his head into the room. Gretel would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit that she felt some mild satisfaction at the sight of the bandage over Hansel's nose. Even though, paradoxically, just looking at it for too long made her own nose ache, tingling with phantom soreness. Even though, regardless of what he'd tried to do to her, she still loved her brother so much it almost frightened her.

"Did you come back to finish the job?" She arched an eyebrow challengingly.

"You look like shit." He arched an eyebrow right back, approaching her bedside. "You know that?"

"So do you," Gretel sighed, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "There's the Hansel I know. I missed you."

"You realize I still have almost _no idea_ who you are?" Hansel reminded her. "Ariel -the Daemonfeuer- says I scream your name in my sleep, but I have..." He closed his eyes, looking pained. "Gretel, I don't _know_ you." His eyes opened and he shook his head at her. "I have these instincts that are coming back to me, about how to talk to you, about how wrong trying to kill you was, but I don't have any of the memories to back those feelings up." Swallowing, he added, "You're a _Hexenbiest_ and I can't make myself try to kill you again. Stabbing you tonight made me feel like I was hurting _myself_. Being around you clearly makes me too weak to do my duty as a Grimm."

"What are you saying?" Gretel could hear the faint quiver in her voice.

"I'm saying whatever bizarre, unnatural friendship existed between us before, it's _over_. I'm a Grimm and you're a Hexenbiest."

"I'm a Grimm too, Hansel." She could hear her voice cracking now. "I'm your sister."

He took a few steps away from the bed, looking somewhere between hurt and enraged. " _No_." His head shook rapidly. "You're an effing liar."

"There _are_ good Hexenbiests in the world," Gretel murmured.

"The only good Hexenbiest is a dead Hexenbiest," Hansel snarled.

"You don't mean that," she said quietly.

In a flash he had strode back to her bedside and put his hand around her throat, curling his fingers around her windpipe threateningly. "I wouldn't bet on that, witch."

Gretel forced herself to hold in her tears. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not when -so ironically- _he_ was the one who'd taught her to be strong. "Go ahead." She choked down an awkward swallow and glared straight into her brother's eyes. "Do it."

Hansel tried to make himself, he really did, but he kept remembering the horrible feeling that had come over him when he'd stabbed her. He imagined his own windpipe closing along with hers; his own life intertwined so tightly with this monster's that if she went out, he followed shortly. It was that painful, overwhelming sense that if Gretel died, he could not bear to live. And his hatred towards her was all the more passionate for it. Some voice in the back of his mind kept screaming, _Don't! Don't do it! It's_ Gretel _! It's not a monster, right now she's just_ Gretel _!_

He released her throat. "I can't." _Dammit..._

She didn't say anything, just stared at him.

"Now, I let you live," Hansel said, finally, after a long pause. "Because I don't think I have a choice. But I don't want to see you ever again."

Gretel rolled over onto her side (the one without the stitched up stab wound) and closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see him leave and he wouldn't see how it was getting harder and harder for her not to just give in and cry.

* * *

"So first I lose my boyfriend to my stepmother and then I get my stomach pumped," Bianca said, smiling blithely at Hank and Nick as they entered the room she'd been moved from the ICU to after her life was out of immediate danger. "It's been a rough few days for me, hasn't it?" She was trying to sound sardonically cheerful, but her voice was faint and her eyes weary and unfocused, rendering the whole tough-girl display pointless. Kind of _pathetic_ , really.

"Do you remember what happened?" Nick asked her. "Was there anyone besides your uncles in the house?"

She shook her head. "It's all a bit hazy, really, but, no, I'm pretty sure it was just me and my uncles."

"Another pie?" Hank guessed.

"Chicken pot pie this time," Bianca said tiredly.

"So your would-be killer's mixing it up a bit," Hank noted dryly. "Either that or he ran out of fruit."

" _Cute_." Bianca stared down at the gray-white blanket thrown over her lap.

"Look, we just need any information you may have so we can catch this guy," Nick tried.

"What's the _point_?" There was a new tone of bitterness in Bianca Snowlight's voice that hadn't been there before. "It's not like you caught the jerk the last time they did this to me. What makes this time so special? Whoever they are, they'll only try to kill me again." She turned her head. "I have nothing to say."

Hank thought for a second, then mouthed, "I got this," to Nick. Taking a step closer to Bianca's bedside, he said, as coolly as he could, "You know, your Uncle Asher is convinced it's Carl, especially since this happened not long after you found out about his little affair with Mrs. Applesmith. We're almost inclined to follow up on that lead. We have no hard evidence, but it's the only one we've got right now."

" _No_ ," said Bianca slowly, "it's not Carl."

"You sound pretty sure," Nick said.

"I am." She looked back at them. "Sure, I mean."

"So what do you say," Hank pressed, "you wanna help us out, or do we have to waste time bringing your ex-boyfriend in for questioning again?"

Bianca sighed. "I just don't know how much there is to tell you."

"Start with what happened tonight," Nick suggested. "Tell us everything you remember."

"I remember arguing with Uncle Asher... We were downstairs, all eight of us about to have a sit down family dinner, when we got into a really stupid fight. I tried to deal, but after everything that happened, I don't know, I just wanted to be alone, so I said I'd take my food upstairs. My pot pie was still in the oven. It must have been almost done, I think, cuz I just reached in and grabbed it..." She lifted up her right hand. "I burnt my thumb."

"Who was doing the cooking?" Hank asked next.

"I don't remember," she said. "We usually take it in turns and I was too upset to pay attention."

"But not too upset that you wouldn't have noticed someone else there?" Nick pointed out. "Someone who might have had a chance to put some kind of poison in your food?"

"I don't know," said Bianca, suddenly a little unsure. "Maybe there was. I don't _remember_ anybody else, though.

"Anyway, next thing I know, I'm upstairs -I've only eaten like half of my pie- and holding my stomach and gasping... Everything went dark after that."

There was a knock at the door, followed by a nurse's head. "Detective Burkhardt?"

"Yeah?" Nick looked up.

"There are two people waiting to see you in the lobby."

"Tell them I'm busy," he said, offhandedly.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but they said it was urgent."

"Hank, would you mind staying here with Bianca?" He walked to the door, following the nurse out of the room. "I'm going to find out what this is about."

* * *

Rosalee and Carl were waiting for Nick when he walked into the lobby.

Carl had been sitting in a chair by the magazine table, cracking his white knuckles nervously. He stood up when he saw the Grimm walk in. His hands were shaking so badly he thought they'd experience time travel, but this time it wasn't from Jay withdrawals.

"Rosalee?" Nick sounded surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"There's something I think you need to hear, Nick." Rosalee looked over at Carl. "But since we got cut off on the phone, it's probably best if you get it straight from the Daemonfeuer's mouth." She nodded at him reassuringly. "Go ahead."

"Um..." Carl's mouth went dry. He swallowed hard and forced himself to go on, looking straight into the Grimm's impatient face, feeling as though he was staring directly into the mouth of hell itself. "It's...it's about Bianca..."

"I'm all ears," Nick assured him.


	10. Dreams & Nightmares

Chapter 10: Dreams & Nightmares

Nick had the dream again. The one about the copper-and-candy house burning to the ground, melting down into the center of the earth.

This time, though, he was _inside_ the house as the flames spread like wildfire. There was only one path clear to get out the front door before he was trapped for good, drowned in molten hot sugar and burned to a crisp. He was about to turn and run when his enhanced hearing picked up a muffled cry for help. Someone else was in the house, too!

Trapped, just like he soon might be.

Unable to _leave_ them like that, Nick had stuck his arm out in front of his face, pushing through the heat and the smoke.

That was when he'd seen it was _two_ someones. Juliette and Gretel. A candy cane pillar had fallen, trapping them in an alcove framed by intertwining pink sugar filigree.

Juliette called his name over and over again. He tried to move the pillar and, after several failed attempts, managed to scoot it a few inches. Enough so he could crawl into the alcove and pull them out.

The filigree turned into teeth-rottenly sweet sugar lava and a couple of drops landed on his neck. Nick had to bite back a curse and a cry of pain and concentrate on getting to his fellow Grimm and his girlfriend.

Finally they were all out and running to the door. They'd seemed only to have a few measly seconds before their path -and last hope- was gone for good.

That was when the unthinkable happened. Ariel appeared, dressed in the same skimpy fire dancer outfit she'd been wearing when Nick had first seen her, and latched onto Juliette's wrist, pulling her back.

Gretel was still by his side. Nick urged her to run, turning his head to look at her for just a second to be sure she made it out.

A flame spud shot up out of a copper stove, erupting right in her face, but she still got to the door.

When he whirled around to rescue Juliette, though, he could barely see her through the smoke. Two women fought, in between the flames, but all he could really see were their silhouettes and swirling red hair. He had to use his best judgment and, reaching into the fire itself, shove away the figure he took for Ariel and pull the one he believed to be Juliette out with him.

He heard a scream, and felt a little bad for Ariel -being a Daemonfeuer and dying so brutally by fire seemed a harsh end- but what could he do? She'd grabbed Juliette, so he'd had to save her.

There was nothing he could do for Ariel.

He found himself lying outside on the ground, not panting or laboring for breath, not sweaty even though the heat had been so intense it caused blisters. He rolled over and saw Gretel holding her face, covering most of it with her hands. Although he wanted to ask if she was okay, he decided to check on Juliette first. Gretel was at least sitting up as she clutched at her face like that; Juliette hadn't moved, lying face-down on the grass ever since he'd pulled her out of the burning candy house.

Rolling her over, Nick got the most horrible shock of his life. It wasn't Juliette. This was Ariel's face he was staring down into, Ariel's breath that was shallow but still consistent.

It was _Juliette_ he'd shoved away and left to die.

Gretel removed her hands from her face.

But there _was_ no face. Just Gretel's eyes surrounded by charred, rotting skin and flesh.

That was when he woke up, panicked without knowing why, relieved beyond all measure and reason when he saw Juliette still asleep beside him, as the details of the dream slowly came back to him.

* * *

"Here." Juliette set a steaming mug of coffee down in front of Nick. She'd walked in and seen him sitting at the table, elbows propped up and his forehead in his hand. "You look like you need it."

Nick looked up, letting go of his forehead and crossing his arms. "Hey."

She forced a weak smile. "Hey."

"Are we still in a fight?"

Juliette sighed. "I don't know." She pulled out a chair. "I don't want to be, and I understand you're going through an _incredible_ amount of stress right now, but I still just don't see where you come off -trying to protect me by keeping things from me."

"I just feel like I've put you through so much... It didn't seem right to make things worse when..."

She sat down and, reaching over, squeezed his hand. " _No_. I want you to feel like you can _talk_ to me. About _anything_ now." She flicked a lock of hair over one shoulder and leaned in closer. "And what was _right_ would have been warning me about Ariel _before_ she showed up on our front porch."

"I know," Nick admitted. "I messed up. I shouldn't have kept that from you."

"It's just... _hard_..." Juliette swallowed "Really, really hard... Dealing with the fact that, sometimes, you seem to forget that I know about your world now, that you don't have to keep secrets from me. I just wonder what else you're _protecting_ me from..."

He blinked at her. "Why did you say protecting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like it should have air quotes."

"I didn't do air quotes," she pointed out.

"But you said it like it..." His voice trailed off. "Never mind."

" _Anyway_ ," Juliette pushed on, squeezing his hand again. "I think that we need to get everything out right now and be back on equal footing. You know, a completely blank slate."

Nick nodded.

"Now, is there _anything_ ," she wanted to know, "else you haven't told me?"

He wondered if he should tell her about the nightmares. Especially since the last nightly terror episode had involved her. Aside from that, there really _wasn't_ anything else he'd been keeping a secret.

"I..."

Juliette waited.

"I've been having these really weird nightmares," he admitted. "About a house burning down."

"Our house?" Juliette asked gently.

He chuckled offhandedly and shook his head. "No. This one was made of candy."

"Nick, that house probably isn't real." She smiled at him reassuringly. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I know," he said, "it's stupid. It's just..." He felt his hands growing tense as he gestured with them, trying to make her understand. "It gets worse, more vivid, every time I dream it. Last time, we were _in_ it. Trapped."

Juliette blinked. "We?"

"You, me..." he explained, pausing. "And Gretel." Was it lying to leave Ariel out of this? Better safe than sorry. "Ariel, too, I guess."

She exhaled heavily. "You're under a lot of stress, and I know sometimes I maybe don't make it as easy as I should..."

"No." He stopped her. "Don't say that. You being here, understanding about Wesen and what I am, it's done more to help me than you can possibly know."

"I'm glad." She looked down at his still tense hands. "I wish I could help you get over your nightmares too, though."

Nick didn't reply. He didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he wanted to tell her that maybe she was right, and now that he'd talked it out with her, it would pass, he'd get over it. Get through it... But, and here was the problem, deep down, he didn't believe that. He believed the dream would still come back to haunt him, as often as it wanted.

And how it would all end, in his mind and in that thin line that divided fake fears from real ones, he had no clue.

"Maybe," Juliette offered, filling the silence, "getting through this for you is going to be like learning about Grimms and Wesen for me."

"Juliette..."

"No, hear me out," she insisted. "Before I fully understood what was going on, I thought I was losing my mind. Until I finally decided it didn't matter what was real and what wasn't. If it was real to _me_ , then that's all that mattered. I had to face things and not let them scare the hell out of me anymore. Then I finally was in the right mind frame to see the truth, to believe in you like I should have from the very beginning. Your candy-house dream is real to _you_ , so..." She cocked her head, locking eyes with her boyfriend. "So maybe it's all about accepting that, even with all you've gone through, something as seemingly simple as a nightmare can still make you nervous on occasion. Then you don't have to feel that, by being scared, you're letting everyone down."

Nick swallowed at a lump in his throat. "The only person I'm truly scared of letting down is _you_."

"Well, don't be."

* * *

Nick pushed in his desk chair and grabbed his jacket, turning to leave the precinct for the evening.

A few desks sported blank screens and switched-off overhead lights, but there were plenty of flickering florescent bulbs left on for those that were still in the process of leaving or had the later shift.

Hank had just turned off his own computer and was following Nick out the door and into the hallway. "So, you don't believe Carl Fieri's theory that one of Bianca's uncles is trying to bump her off?" he asked, walking briskly to keep up with his partner.

"No, Hank, I told you; I believe him." He turned a corner. "A lot of stuff he told me last night, about how possessive Bianca's uncles get, about how she had been secretly seeking an emancipation behind their backs... Well, it fits with what Bianca was saying."

Hank's eyes widened. "Bianca did say she was fighting with Asher and things were getting pretty bad."

" _Exactly_." Nick stopped at the doors leading outside. "And what would make one of them madder than her trying to leave them? Possibly for _Carl_ -a guy they all hate- if this all started before she found out about him and August."

"They'd be furious," Hank realized. "You run the check on the emancipation case?"

"She tried to file it," Nick told him. "It's on record. It's pretty much stagnant, though, nothing's been done with it for a while."

"So the courts never granted her an emancipation," Hank noted slowly, "but they never flat out denied her one, either."

"Meaning, if she's feeling stifled she could be trying to re-open it." Nick made a rolling gesture with his outstretched hand. "Not to be with Carl, but to _literally_ be on her own."

"That could make whichever one of them tried to poison her the first time even madder."

"Right. But we have no proof."

"So who's making sure she's safe until we get some?"

"Captain Renard agreed to leave some police officers outside her room at the hospital, and she's not being released for a couple of days for her own safety."

"That doesn't give us much time," Hank said grimly. "In two days, if we don't have any proof, she's going back into the danger zone."

"Then we'd better get to work on finding some proof," Nick replied.

"Where are you going right now?"

"I have to pick up Gretel from the hospital," he said, pushing the door open and walking out onto the steps.

"Yeah, how she doing?" Hank asked.

"Pretty good for someone who got stabbed. She's just really mad they made her stay overnight."

"You planning on checking on Bianca while you're there?"

"Yeah, I didn't see why not."

"Mind if I come with?"

"Sure," Nick agreed. "You want to take my car or yours?"

"I'll follow," Hank said, shrugging. "I think I want to stay a little longer, maybe try talking to some of the uncles again. Maybe I can get one of them to slip up and say something useful, since they don't know they're our newest suspects."

"Okay."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Nick made it to his car.

"Hey, if you don't mind me asking," Hank said, reaching in his coat pocket for his keys, "what are you going to do about Hansel? I mean, is he going to stay with you even though he tried to kill Gretel?"

"I can't exactly just let them go off on their merry way after that," Nick sighed. "Juliette and I decided to clear some junk out of the guest room. That way, either Gretel can take it and Hansel can get the couch, or she can stay where she is and Hansel can take the room."

"Wow, your place is turning into a Grimm hostel." Hank smirked teasingly.

Nick rolled his eyes, got in his car, and started it up. "Shut up."

"Aye, aye, Concierge Burkhardt," Hank laughed, leaning on his open car door.

* * *

 _This is it_ , Gretel told herself. _This is the last time I'm going to woge._

Being in the hospital, weakened from blood loss and suffering from a double rejection, she'd let herself go into as full a woge as she could (minuscule though that was) more frequently than was normal. She was vulnerable, more prone to it here. That was why she'd tried her best not to look at any of the doctors or nurses for too long, scared she'd lose control and they'd see something she didn't want them to.

And why she was glad Nick hadn't had time to come by and see her before work.

She'd spent the day regaining her strength, mentally and emotionally as well as physically.

Now, at last, Gretel felt she was strong enough to go back to hiding it as well as she always had. Nick still had no clue, so long as Hansel didn't tell him. Luckily, she didn't think Nick wanted to listen to _anything_ that came out of her brother's mouth right now, not after he'd stabbed her, and -if he felt more keen on listening later- she could always try and get to Hansel first. True, he'd said he didn't want to see her again, but she could always threaten to pester his every waking hour if he shared her secret - _their_ secret, even if he wouldn't admit it- with anybody.

If he really wanted to be away from her that badly, he'd cooperate.

Or she could just do what she'd done when they were little kids. Threaten to pin him down and sit on his stomach while force-feeding jelly beans and M&Ms to his nostrils.

That, of course, had been before their father left them; before they were on their own. Gretel wouldn't have threatened anything like that after they'd faced their first Hexenbiest and Hansel became a diabetic. She'd never tried to get Hansel to put anything he didn't want into his body after that incident. With the exception of his insulin, when they were eleven and he'd broken his arm and two ribs in a fight with a particularly vicious, extremely hormonal preteen Blutbad and he'd leaned back against the wall of the abandoned crack house they were hiding out in, shaking his head, telling Gretel he wasn't going to take it (even though his beeping wristwatch said it was time) because he didn't want to live like this anymore.

She had immediately pinned her brother in place and shoved that needle in his arm so fast she almost missed the vein, pressing her knee against his stomach, keeping his back pressed to the wall so hard it left an impression in the chalky dust when she finally let him go.

And Hansel had never threatened to leave her like that again.

Until last night, when he wouldn't even acknowledge she was his sister.

So what did it matter now what she threatened him with to keep things in order? What was the worst he could do?

Try to kill her?

Been there, done that. He couldn't do it.

Hate her?

Well, he already _did_ , now didn't he?

It was terrible, him being here in Portland, alive and safe (in most ways) and her missing him even _more_ than when she'd had no idea where the hell he was.

So here she was, staring into the bathroom mirror, ready to face her hideous Hexenbiest side one more time before she put it away. Hopefully forever. Or at least long enough to figure out what the eff she was going to do with her life now.

Gretel took a deep breath and let the change come over her. The mirror was dark. For some reason the light had burnt out sometime in the night and was never replaced, which was why she'd left the door open just a crack. She could, via that darkened mirror image, see her little packed bag on the hospital bed the nurses had made up so pristinely it was practically a work of origami.

Looking at herself, she realized that she didn't even really remember what her mother's full woge looked like. She must have seen it, at least a few times, during her early childhood, but she didn't remember. And now, knowing what she knew, about why their parents left them, it made her feel incredibly sad. She thought she'd have rather had that one memory back than her mother's wand. The wand meant almost nothing; that memory would have been something _real_ to her. Something to treasure and maybe even save her from such full and untamed self-loathing. She could have said that to Hansel, about there being good Hexenbiests in the world, so much more strongly and passionately, like she actually meant it, if only she remembered what their mother's Hexenbiest side looked like.

However, the only memory she had of Adrianna was the pretty, human-looking face, framed by long brown hair not so different from her own, that haunted those dreams Hansel never let her talk about.

Suddenly, Gretel saw a shadow flicker across the glass and the image of the bag on the bed was gone.

Replaced by Nick's stunned-faced reflection, gaping at the Hexenbiest in the mirror.

Gretel spun around, changing as she turned. "Nick, I-"

He just stared at her for a long, utterly shocked moment. "Oh my God."


	11. A Kiss For Bad Luck

Chapter 11: A Kiss For Bad Luck

It was the quietest ride imaginable. Neither Nick nor Gretel said a word as the car zipped down two streets and paused at one four-way stop.

What was there to say? Nick _knew_ now. He had seen her fullest woge. Gretel stared straight ahead, wondering what was going to happen. Maybe he'd hate her as much as Hansel did.

Though, you didn't generally give rides home from the hospital to people you hated, did you?

 _No_ , Gretel reminded herself, not home; his _house_. Nick's house was _not_ 'home'... Not for her.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and broke the silence. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

After his initial, "Oh my God," not one word had come out of his mouth since he walked in on her woging. Not even a grunt of acknowledgment had come from him as he'd signed her out, walked her to the car... _Nothing_. He'd gone as far as to hold the door open for her, and still he didn't make a single noise. The only sound had been the car door slamming as he shut it after her.

This was getting ridiculous.

"What do you want me to say?" Nick kept his eyes on the road.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Do you want me to talk about how I can't believe I fell for your little Grimm-in-need act?"

Gretel felt like he'd just slapped her across the face. "It wasn't an act, and no one _asked_ you to help me."

"You're not a Grimm."

She felt her cheeks growing hot. Not from embarrassment, but from unadulterated burning anger. Hansel at least had an _excuse_ to be an effing asshole. He'd been, well, she didn't even _know_ what they'd done to him to make him forget her, what hell he'd been through since they were separated. Nick didn't have that excuse; he hadn't been tortured. Sure, he'd had a shock, walking in on her like that, but that was in no way the same thing. He had no right to talk to her like that. She'd known about their world much, _much_ longer than he had; she'd been living the life of a Grimm since she was a little girl. Gretel had pushed herself to the breaking point so many times, ignoring severe pains both physical and emotional, just to make herself a better Grimm, to always be ready for whatever came at her next -whatever Hexenbiest she had to fight to keep herself, her brother, and who knew how many untold innocents safe.

"I am," she said slowly, "more of a Grimm than you will _ever_ be."

"You're not the first Wesen to do this to me," Nick told her darkly, remembering the precinct's former intern, Ryan Smulson, "but you definitely were the most convincing."

"Listen, you _idiot_ ," Gretel hissed, twisting in her seat and glaring at him. "My father was a Grimm. And you know what? _He_ didn't need enhanced skills -from a _Wesen_ \- to fight better."

His cool facade of calmness while inwardly feeling betrayed began to fizz out on him now, at this worst possible moment. Because he believed her. Somehow, he didn't think she was lying, even after what she'd kept from him.

"By the way, you missed the damn turn."

Nick _was_ aware he'd gone down the wrong street, but not until he was already on it and there was no way to go back without making some kind of illegal U-turn over somebody's front lawn. "I want to go _this_ way," he lied.

Silence once again ensued.

"Gretel?" He actually turned his head to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" She leaned her hairline against the window.

"For what I said a couple minutes ago." Nick sighed. "I was... I was way out of line."

 _You bet you were._ "Did you mean it?"

Nick paused for a moment to think about it. "No."

"Then I forgive you."

"And you're right," he said, making a turn. "You _are_ a much better Grimm than me."

Gretel shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"Gretel..."

"I only said that because I was angry about being rejected."

"What?"

She swallowed hard. "Hansel visited me at the hospital and told me he didn't want to see me ever again, that he didn't believe I was his sister." She lifted her head off the glass and looked over at Nick. "Or a Grimm."

"So my saying that..."

"Pretty much pushed me over the edge," Gretel admitted. "I've already lost my brother, and I suddenly realized I might be losing my friend, too." She bit her lip, then released it. "And I was telling myself it was okay... But it's not. And that only made me even more angry because... Because I'm not really used to needing anyone besides my brother, or caring if anyone else gives a shit if I'm dead or alive. When you saw me woge, and I turned and saw the look on your face, it just hit me so hard that it was going to _hurt_ when I lost you. It was really, _really_ going to hurt." She shook her head. "And I don't want it to."

"You're not going to lose me," Nick said, his eyes back on the road now but his expression softer. "Way I see it, nothing's actually changed."

Gretel smiled weakly.

"But..." He hesitated. "What you said about your father... Is it true? I mean, if you found out about what you were after he..." Nick's voice trailed off.

"I don't know." Gretel laughed to herself, a little bitterly. "I guess I just want it to be. I like to think he was something like Hansel."

Almost involuntarily, Nick made a face.

"The Hansel you met -the one that stabbed me- isn't the Hansel I know," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know."

"Nick?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's a little late for this, but there's something I want to tell you. Something I should have trusted you with before."

"What's that?"

"I'm half-Hexenbiest."

He smirked, glancing over at her as the car rolled to a stop at a changing yellow light. "You don't say."

Gretel smiled back. His tone might have been sarcastic, but there was no coldness in it now. And his facial expression was friendly again.

So she told him. _Everything_. The truth as far as she knew it. About being scared of anyone ever learning the truth about her being the daughter of a supposedly very powerful Hexenbiest; about Sean Renard telling her that her father betrayed the Verrat and giving her Adrianna's wand.

"So you don't hate your parents anymore. At least you got that much closure," Nick pointed out.

Gretel shrugged. "Not hating them is only half the battle. I still don't identify as a Hexenbiest. I'm a _Grimm_ , that's all I've ever known. It's not that I hate my mother for being a Hexenbiest, or that I'm ashamed of her memory..." However little of it she actually had. "It's more that I don't want to _be_ one. I don't want to be able to woge, and I sure as hell don't want their powers."

Nick found himself thinking of Adalind Schade, and how he'd taken her powers from her, along with her ability to woge. "What I don't understand is why, if half your blood is Grimm, it doesn't keep your Hexenbiest powers in check."

"It _does_ , somewhat. I can control it better than most; I hid it from you," Gretel reminded him. "I doubt that would have been possible if I wasn't a Grimm, too."

"What do you think would happen," Nick asked, "if you got another Grimm's blood inside of you?"

"Same thing that happens to every Hexenbiest," Gretel guessed. "I have the mark under my tongue; I assume I'm bound by the same rules, more or less."

"What about Hansel?"

Gretel snorted. "Are you asking me why I never tried to drink my twin brother's _blood_?"

Nick looked a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess."

"Among other reasons," she said, rolling her eyes, "he has the same parentage as me. He may not be able to woge, but he's as much the child of a Hexenbiest as I am."

So if another Grimm's blood ( _his_ blood) got inside her, Nick realized, it would probably _work_... She could be free of her risky half-heritage. If that was what she really wanted. If it wasn't just talk, or the simple fear of being related to the very thing you hunted and disdained.

"But if you had a choice," Nick pressed, "would you really give up your powers? Even if it meant losing your last connection to your mother?"

"What powers? I can't use most of them; I'm a fighter -a _hunter_ \- not a witch." She wrung her hands, staring down into her lap, not even noticing this time that Nick had missed the turn _again_. "And then of course there's what Sean Renard told me. As a Hexenbiest _and_ a Grimm I'm doubly valuable to the Verrat. Aside from my connection to my father by birth, if I was just a Grimm..." She looked up. "The only thing I'd have to worry about are Reapers. And I know I can handle _that_."

"Okay." Nick pulled off the road into a parking lot.

What happened next was not Nick's finest plan. Looking back, he wished he'd been smarter and just flat out offered some of his blood to Gretel. A couple of drops, maybe put into something easier to swallow at the spice shop, with Monroe and Rosalee supervising, and boom, she'd have been all Grimm, just like she wanted. But he hadn't thought of that. Instead, Nick thought of how sharp Gretel's instincts were. He remembered what she'd said to the Bauerschwein back at the diner the day they met: _Next time you touch me -or any other innocent woman- like that, I won't just_ break _your nose; I'll bite it right off your effing face._

It occurred to Nick that if he kissed Gretel, fast and hard, her first instinct would be the same as Adalind's. She'd bite him. She wouldn't want to hurt him, but she'd bite down before her mind gave way to rational thought, and she'd bite _hard_. Hard enough to make him bleed. Hard enough to give her what she wanted.

It would be so quick. And maybe once she was no longer able to woge, Hansel wouldn't feel so threatened by her and they could work on getting his memory sorted without him being a bigoted asshole and trying to kill her again. He probably couldn't make himself kill his own sister -however strongly he denied her- slowly, but if it was quick, like that knife had been... As long as Hansel was in Portland and Gretel's secret was known to him, she was in danger. In his current state, who knew if Hansel wouldn't be stupid enough to hand her over to the Verrat himself? Nick sure as hell didn't expect _Ariel_ to be any help controlling him...

So, as soon as the car was parked, Nick unbuckled himself, leaned over the seat, and kissed Gretel full on the mouth.

Gretel's fighter instincts didn't kick in like they were supposed to. She was caught completely off guard. For one -not entirely unpleasant- moment she was lost in the sheer force of the unexpected kiss.

Generally, Gretel didn't let men kiss her. If she hadn't been thrown off, she'd have had Nick by the throat before his lips even made contact with hers. She'd have been squeezing her fingers into his windpipe as she pushed him away.

But something here hadn't gone right. Gretel didn't feel repelled enough to react quickly. She didn't _feel_ like biting him or choking him or shoving him away so hard his head smashed against the glass of the window on the driver's side. This wasn't disgusting, or horrible, or anything like what she so often had to fight off from anything of the male variety.

She found herself doing what she'd never done before. _Returning_ the gesture; kissing him _back_...

It wasn't until she suddenly remembered Juliette and Nick was already pulling away from her, after what was really only a few seconds though it seemed like a lot longer, that Gretel's common sense -and fury- came rushing back to her. Along with the anguish she'd told herself she'd never have to worry about feeling.

Nick was as surprised by this as she was. He'd had no clue that Gretel had those kind of feelings for him. If he'd known, he would _never_ have kissed her.

It was the look on her face as he hastily pulled away that betrayed her thoughts. That face, usually so closed off and protected, was -for a split second- an open book.

He could read his fellow Grimm's face, and the feelings written all over it.

"I'm so sorry..." Nick stammered softly, staring into her eyes. "If I'd had _any_ idea-"

Then, just like that, the open book snapped shut. Gretel's face hardened and the only emotion he could still read was that she was extremely pissed. "Don't flatter yourself." She undid her seat-belt and flung the car door open, fast walking out into the parking lot.

* * *

"Gretel, wait!"

She didn't wait; she kept walking. Gretel had no idea where she thought she was going, exactly, but 'away from Nick' seemed a pretty damn good destination right now.

What further aim did she really need?

Unfortunately, Nick wasn't a slowpoke by any stretch of the imagination. And if their practice Grimm-on-Grimm scrimmages had taught him _anything_ it was how to catch up with her when he wanted to.

Gretel knew this, which was why, even as she kept moving, she didn't bother breaking into a run. She could turn into freaking _Flo Jo_ and Mr. Nicholas Never-Sweat Burkhardt behind her would still catch up in a manner of minutes.

He grabbed her arm. "Gretel-"

She wrenched herself free, whirling on him. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"That wasn't what you think," Nick tried.

"You have an effing _girlfriend_!" Gretel fumed on, ignoring what he'd just said. "You can't just go around kissing people."

"Just let me explain!"

"Oh, _this_ ought to be good," she muttered, turning and walking away again.

He kept up with her, of course.

Since he clearly wasn't going anywhere, Gretel decided to start off on him again. "You pull off the road, park the car, and kiss me... What besides the obvious could I possibly assume here?"

"You could assume that I'm an idiot."

"Yes," Gretel agreed sardonically, stopping in her tracks and turning around to face him again. "As a matter of fact, I have."

"Look." Nick took a step backwards and shook his head at her. "I didn't expect you to kiss me back."

"Oh?" Gretel folded her arms across her chest and arched an eyebrow. "And that makes it okay?"

" _Gretel_ ," he chuckled nervously, gesturing apologetically with his hands. "I thought... I thought you'd fight me off, I'd end up bleeding, some of my blood would get in you, and..."

"...And I wouldn't be a Hexenbiest anymore," Gretel finished for him.

He nodded. "You said that was what you wanted."

Gretel reached out and shoved him. "You idiot!"

"Hey, take it easy," Nick protested. "I had no idea that you-"

"That I _what_?" Gretel demanded.

"That you..." He hesitated, unsure of how to say it. "That you liked me."

Gretel cocked her head. " _Please_."

"Why else wouldn't you have fought me off?"

It was like a cold hard lump in Gretel's throat, dripping down into her heart in tiny sharp, piercing splinters, stabbing it repeatedly. Not only was this little episode humiliating, but it was also abundantly clear that for all the repressed emotions that stupid kiss brought out in _her_ , Nick felt absolutely nothing. Nothing but sorry he'd hurt her. Sorry he'd hurt a _friend_. He was in love with Juliette, and _only_ Juliette.

Not, of course, that Gretel wanted him to be a cheating jackass... What she wanted was not to want him. And she'd been doing a damn good job of that until the moron went and _kissed_ her.

"I don't want to talk about this," she grumbled. "Leave me alone."

"Just get back in the car."

"No."

"You have stitches in your side; you're going to make them come loose."

"Eff the stitches."

"I know it's not worth much right now," Nick said gently, "but I really didn't mean to hurt you. I consider you family, Gretel."

"Because I'm a Grimm."

"That, too," he admitted. "But you're also one of the best friends I've ever had."

Gretel bit her lip.

"And no matter how many stupid mistakes I make, I'm not just going to walk away and leave you alone."

A different Gretel, one who'd grown up with her parents and not more or less on the streets with no one except her brother, might have cried. This Gretel didn't cry, but she _did_ accept his apology and get back in the car with him.

* * *

"I don't think I should go back to your house," Gretel said as Nick started up the car engine.

"Where do you think you should go?"

"I don't know. The trailer?"

"I didn't let you sleep in the trailer _before_ you were wounded," Nick reminded her. "What makes you think I'd let you now?"

"Nick, I think I need some time away from you," Gretel told him. "And I _know_ Hansel doesn't want to see me right now, so..."

"How much time do you need?"

"I don't know." She swallowed and looked out the window. It was starting to rain. "Enough to figure out what to do."

"If you're thinking of trying to take Hansel and go..."

"No, that's not what I'm thinking. That would be suicide right now." Not to mention impossible. Hansel trusted Ariel -a _Daemonfeuer_ \- more than he trusted her at the moment. Gretel strongly doubted she could rely on the brotherly instinct that kept Hansel from killing her in cold blood to protect her if self-defense was involved. And she'd fought her brother enough times to know he had as good a chance as her of winning. _Better_ , actually. Because his new hatred of her, his lack of old memories, made him ruthless. A luxury _she_ didn't have.

Nick nodded.

"Is there _anywhere_ ," Gretel pressed, "I could stay for a few days that isn't your house?"

Backing out of the parking lot and onto the road again, Nick took the car out of reverse and said, "Yeah, I think I might know a place."

* * *

"How's the vegan sausage?" Monroe asked, leaning forward in his chair and folding his hands on the dinner table.

"It's good," Rosalee said, cutting another piece.

"It's too salty, isn't it?"

"No, it's not, it's great."

"Really? You sure? Because I think I put too much salt this time."

Rosalee shook her head. "Monroe, the sausage is _fantastic_."

"So, I think it was really great how you helped that Daemonfeuer kid," Monroe told her, after a short pause.

Rosalee put another piece of sausage in her mouth and chewed for a few seconds before swallowing and answering. "I feel sorry for him. He's made some bad choices, but I don't think that makes him a bad guy. There's a lot he's going through with his addiction that..." Her voice trailed off and she stared down at her plate. "That I remember experiencing a lot more vividly than I'd like."

"Well, if he's anything like you," Monroe said, smiling as she looked up, "I think he'll do pretty well in the end."

"Thank you."

"Hey, not to sound off topic or anything, but, after I get the dishes taken care of, you feel like going upstairs and...uh...you know?" Monroe lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Rosalee stood up. "Except for the part about you doing the dishes." She reached over and took his plate, putting it on top of hers. "You cooked, so _I_ get to clean up."

Monroe leaned back in his chair to call after her as she disappeared into the kitchen. "Can I at least help?"

"No, I got it!" she called back.

"But what about, like, you wash, I dry?"

"We have a drying rack!"

"Since _when_?"

"Since last week; you were with me when I bought it!"

"What?" His brow furrowed. "I don't remember this."

"Of _course_ you do," Rosalee's voice reminded him. "That was the day I went with you to fix that mantelpiece clock with the fat cherubs on it...?"

"Oh, yeah! That's right... _Now_ I remember."

_Knock, knock._

"I'll get it!" Monroe got up and went to the front door, swinging it open.

Nick stood there, looking tired.

"Oh, hey, Nick." Monroe smiled awkwardly. "You okay, man?"

"Fine." He shifted from one foot to the other. "I was just wondering if you still have that spare room in your attic?"

"Yeah, of course." Monroe's smile waned, replaced by a worried look. "But, why would you-"

"Not for me." Nick moved out of the light and tilted his head in the direction of Gretel, who was now visible at his side. "For her."


	12. Case Closed

Chapter 12: Case Closed

"No, just because I speak Spanish, does _not_ mean I know the actual words to _La Cucaracha_ ," Juliette was saying into the phone as Nick walked through the door.

Nick tried to smile, not sure he even _wanted_ to know what that conversation was about, but after what had just happened with Gretel, he couldn't manage more than a small, half-hearted smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, I'm sure that's not the only song that the machine will play without malfunctioning," Juliette continued, shaking her head. "And won't the lyrics just show up on the screen anyway?" She stopped, listening to what sounded like baritone squawking on the other end. "Yeah, well, have Sergeant Wu take a look at those wires; maybe he knows how to set it up." More ironically low-pitched squawking. "The captain's really okay with you using the precinct's security monitor for that?" Juliette knit her brows. "I'd check with him first, if I were you." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, you do that. Talk to you later. Bye."

Nick chuckled lightly.

"Hey, Nick, when did you get in?"

"Just now," he told her.

"I've just been invited to your _Karaoke For Kops_ fundraiser." She gestured at the phone before putting it down. "Provided I know the words to _La Cucaracha_ and am willing to sing it in a duet with you."

Nick looked uncomfortable.

"Don't worry," Juliette said, trying to reassure him. "Maybe we can pawn it off on someone else. But, I've got to be honest, it doesn't sound that bad. It might even be a little fun." She smiled playfully, her cheerful expression slowly dropping as she realized Nick seemed to be upset about more than just the potentially embarrassing fundraiser. Not to mention he was supposed to pick up Gretel from the hospital and there was no Gretel in sight. Something was definitely wrong here. "Where's Gretel, by the way?"

"She's going to be staying at Monroe's for a few days," Nick told her, struggling to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible.

"Is everything okay?" Juliette sensed an underlying issue she couldn't fully put her finger on. "Did you guys have a fight?"

He shook his head, not sure if saying 'no' was actually a lie or not. "She just..." He took in a sharp breath. "She's worried about Hansel being under the same roof right now."

"Why?" Juliette asked. "Does she think he's going to try and kill her again?"

"No, but he told her he didn't want to see her ever again so she's decided to give him some space."

"What?" Juliette's nose wrinkled. "When was this?"

"At the hospital." Nick shrugged. "Apparently he snuck in for a little family reunion."

"That's..." She tried to come up with something fitting, finally settling on, "Not good."

"I know."

"You also realize this means we're suck with _Hansel_ ," Juliette couldn't help adding. She didn't _know_ the guy, so she couldn't really judge, but with Gretel -even when she'd felt jealous or suspicious of her- there at least hadn't been so high a wall of unreachable _arrogance_. Trapped in his own issues and -evidently _chronic_ \- fears, Hansel acted sort of superior, and he'd rarely come out of guest room except when he needed to pee or shower or whatever. "Somehow I get the feeling he's not going to be the most ideal house guest we've ever had."

The doorbell rang almost immediately after Juliette finished her sentence.

"Were you expecting anybody?" Nick asked, a little surprised.

Juliette thought for a second. "No. _You_?"

He shook his head again, going over to the door and opening it.

Standing there, probably a little tipsy if not actually full-on drunk, was a scantily clad woman with a big hairdo, wearing heels so high they would have made an _acrobat_ dizzy.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Nick asked, by this point extremely confused.

"You Hahn- _Zeel_?" the woman slurred, somehow narrowing her eyes and smiling at the same time.

"Hans Zeel," Nick called over his shoulder, "you've got company."

When Hansel came down the stairs with a half-empty bottle of vodka, grinning too lecherously for comfort, holding onto the railing until his knuckles went white just to keep from toppling over and doing a Willy Wonka roll all the way to the bottom, Nick started to get a bad feeling about this 'guest'.

Juliette seemed to catch on, too. "Please tell me you actually know this girl and she's not a hooker."

"She's not a _hooker_ ," Hansel snorted, rolling his eyes. "She's a lady escort."

"And just where is she escorting you?" Juliette snapped.

"To my room?" Hansel said cheekily, lifting the bottle and making the remainder of his vodka slosh around.

Nick frowned. Apparently Gretel hadn't been wrong -or even exaggerating- about her brother being a womanizer. He hoped she was also right about him being a good person deep down; about his not being a _total_ creep.

"You're drunk." Juliette stated the obvious, gaping at Hansel with a mixture of pity and disgust.

" _Please_ ," laughed Hansel, looking -for a second there- so much like Gretel that Nick actually blinked and took a half-step backwards. If Hansel really thought she wasn't his twin sister, if he was really _that_ stupid, not just in denial, there was no hope for him.

"So which one'a yous gonna pay meh?" the hooker in the doorway demanded. Noticing Hansel's vodka, she added, "Care tah share?"

"I can't believe you called for a prostitute," Juliette hissed, glaring at Hansel and folding her arms across her chest. "You're a _guest_ in our house!"

Nick lowered his eyebrows, also focusing on Hansel and ignoring the hooker. "You know I'm a _cop_ , right?"

"Uh oh." Hansel's own eyebrows shot up in mock horror. It was obvious he really didn't give a damn.

"You have five seconds to send her away or I get out the handcuffs," Nick warned him.

"Ooh, bah- _bay_..." simpered the hooker, winking suggestively.

"They're not for what you're thinking," Nick sighed.

"I _seeh_." She pouted. "So which one'a yous de cop again? You or da guy with the band-aide over 'is nose?"

"Just get out of here," Hansel told her, making a shooing motion with his vodka bottle, his eyes darkening with annoyance.

Somebody's a little self-conscious about his broken nose, thought Nick, trying not to feel _too_ proud of himself.

* * *

Pensively nursing what was his fourth? No, wait, _fifth_? cup of coffee that night, Hank looked through the vertical glass panel at Bianca Snowlight's T.V. flicking from channel to channel. She was getting restless. There was no way she wouldn't be more than ready to leave when her two days here were up.

Hank knew he probably should have just gone home already; it was getting late. But even with the uniformed police officers guarding her door (they were just on a bathroom break right now, thanks to his offering to stand in for them for a few minutes), he still felt anxious. Proof was pretty damn hard to come by. And Bianca herself wasn't going to be much help. If she'd refused to believe her stepmother -who'd made her life miserable and slept with her boyfriend- could have wanted her dead, she definitely wasn't going to support the new theory that one of her _uncles_ was the culprit.

Something had to be done, though. Time was going to run out _fast_.

It didn't help that there were seven uncles. How were they supposed to narrow that down? They were _all_ overprotective. It wasn't like they could arrest all of them for being controlling. Most people wouldn't even think they were in the wrong, necessarily. A fifteen year old girl _did_ need some level of supervision. Especially one who'd been targeted by a would-be killer.

One of the uncles -Hank really wasn't sure which, he was having a hard time keeping track; he could remember Asher and one other uncle...whatshisSantaface...when he wasn't this completely spent, but aside from that they all kind of blended together- had been trying to practically fore-feed Bianca the hospital's applesauce around dinner time when she said she wasn't hungry, but unless he put _arsenic_ in it first, they couldn't book him on that. Just because he wanted her to finish her applesauce didn't mean he wanted her _dead_.

There had to be some way to draw out the guilty one... If these guys were Wesen, Hank would have thought it might have been a good idea to get Nick to sort of mess with their insecurities until one of them snapped, woged, and finally confessed. Unless... Could they make one of them angry enough to give themselves away regardless of the fact that they weren't Wesen? They didn't have to be able to woge or be afraid of Nick literally cutting off their heads to confess. How many people had they caught in the past -before they even _knew_ about Wesen- who'd broken down in an interrogation room?

But how were they supposed to get them into an interrogation room if they couldn't arrest them?

Could they say they wanted to interview each of them about Bianca's case again?

Bianca's case...

Not the attempted murder, but the emancipation one...

Hank had an idea. He pulled out his iphone and scrawled through his contacts until he found Nick, calling him. "Hey, man, you asleep?" There was a faint grumble on the other end from a tired Nick, who'd just been about to crawl into bed. (Hansel had vomited on him after the hooker left, Juliette had had to wrestle the remainder of the vodka away from him while he retched, and Nick finally managed to wash off the smell of his fellow Grimm's puke.) "Sorry, I won't keep you." His eyes flickered to the glass panel one more time. "I just wanted to tell you... I think I know how we can get some proof."

* * *

"Good news," Nick said, putting a manila folder down on the table in front of a surprised Bianca. "You're legally emancipated."

All seven uncles were in the interrogation room with her. Three were seated, the rest standing behind Bianca's chair protectively. They'd had Captain Renard call them down to the precinct saying some of the records of their previous statements had been tampered with and they needed them all to come and make new formal statements.

Hank stood with his back against the wall, slumped casually, arms folded across his chest. For this to work, he couldn't let himself look interested; couldn't let on that this was a set up and that, for all intents and purposes, Bianca Snowlight was _not_ actually emancipated.

At least Bianca herself knew this wasn't real. Hank hadn't told her _why_ , but he'd asked her to trust him on this. He'd even gotten her to wear a small microphone concealed on her person (just in case the guilty uncle decided to whisper his threat, unknowingly speaking straight into a wireless devise connected to a hidden earpiece Nick was wearing).

Naturally, none of Bianca's uncles could have suspected _this_. The element of surprise was completely on their side.

"What?" Asher roared.

"The _hell_?" snapped the one that looked like Santa on a Swiss alps summer vacation gone wrong.

"But he's a _homicide cop_! This is none of his business."

"Bianca, you can't seriously-"

"Shut up, all of you! She's fif-freaking-teen; she's not going anywhere just because some lousy piece of paper..."

"That lousy piece of paper is the _law_ ," Hank reminded him, arching an eyebrow. "She doesn't have to go home with you if she doesn't want to."

More grumbling ensued, but -even though Nick's eyes flickered from face to face to face, searching eagerly for signs of the would be killer- not one of them fully lost their cool; no one openly threatened Bianca.

Maybe the killer just wasn't stupid enough for that.

Damn. That's what the plan was counting on.

Well, maybe not _real_ stupidity, more anger overriding common sense leading to a display of what -a with normal temperament- would be _considered_ stupidity.

But they weren't getting either. Just a speechless Bianca and a bunch of flabbergasted uncles who Nick was starting to _wish_ , holding back the urge to rub his temples, were speechless.

Hank risked a look over at his partner, tugging on his earlobe pointedly.

Nick shook his head.

Hank swallowed back a sigh, keeping his face motionless.

There was no denying it now, though.

His plan was failing.

* * *

"Are you going to tell the Dwarton brothers Bianca's not emancipated before they drive off without her?" Renard said dryly, as Bianca and her uncles started down the front hall of the precinct, heading for the door.

"Give it a few more minutes, Captain," Hank replied quietly, almost pleadingly.

"This was a good plan you had, Hank, but I think we have to accept it didn't work." Captain Renard shook his head. It was clear that he was disappointed too. Even with everything else he had to deal with, it was obvious he did actually care about the people of Portland their job was to protect.

"So we just let her go home with a possible suspect?" Hank protested. "Wait until we're called in for a homicide again?" He looked to Nick for back up.

Nick didn't say anything, just fiddled with the earpiece he still wore.

Renard sighed. "I'll allow it. You've got the three minutes it'll take them to get to the parking meter outside. Then it's over. There's nothing else we can do without more evidence."

"It's my fault," Hank murmured.

"Hank-" Nick started.

"No." He held up a hand. "It is. I should have focused on getting evidence when she was in the hospital, not hope for a confession to come flying into our laps. I took the easy way out and now that poor girl's going to pay for it."

A smirk spread across Nick's face. "No, she's not."

"You got something?" Hank's eyes widened.

"I got something all right." Nick let go of the earpiece, made sure he had his gun, and started fast walking to catch up with their suspect. "Asher just threatened her."

As soon as Hank was at his side, they both broke into a run and stormed through the hallway, getting outside just as Asher was latching onto his niece's arm.

"Asher Dwarton, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Bianca Snowlight!" Nick pointed his gun at him.

Hank took out a set of handcuffs.

Asher made a break for it, running down the block. A couple of the other uncles, not fully understanding, stood in the way, until Hank loudly informed them if they didn't move they'd be arrested for helping him, and they allowed themselves to be brushed aside.

They didn't need to worry, though. Asher wasn't getting anywhere. Even if Nick hadn't been so fast, on him almost the second the Dwarton brothers dispersed, he wouldn't have made it far.

Because a young man in a hoodie had tackled him and was holding him down.

Hank handcuffed him while Bianca, following with a hand over her mouth, started sobbing " _Why_?" gaping at her uncle in disbelief.

"Because you were going to try and leave him," Hank said, pulling him up by the cuffs. "Some people just don't know when to let go."

"I thought I could trust him," Bianca choked out. "I can't believe he tried to poison me."

"Sometimes trust is a double-edged sword," Nick said.

Bianca nodded, swallowing back more tears and turning away.

As soon as she was gone, Nick turned to the guy in the hoodie. "Thanks, Carl."

Carl Fieri pulled back the hood, revealing his face as it went from full woge form back to normal. "I wasn't about to let that bastard get away with what he tried to do to her."

"You did good," Nick told him.

Carl exhaled sharply. "You too." He smiled weakly. "You know, for a Grimm, you're..." He sighed. "You're not completely awful."

"Well, thank you," Nick chuckled sardonically.

"He's a monster..." croaked Asher. "I always knew he was a monster."

"You have the right to remain silent," Hank reminded him, giving the chain on the cuffs a slight yank. "I'd suggest you use it."

Carl and Nick exchanged a look of genuine amusement, actually grinning at each other.

"You know," Hank said, noticing how well Nick and Carl seemed to be working together, "we still have that opening for an intern. We never did replace Ryan."

Nick shrugged at Carl. "It's a job, and I got a feeling you need one. If you don't mind working with a Grimm on a regular basis."

Carl's smile turned a little shy and for a moment there he couldn't make long-term eye contact with the Grimm or his partner.

Finally, he said, "Yeah, I'd like that."


	13. Breaking Hansel

Chapter 13: Breaking Hansel

"Go ahead, try it on if you want," Rosalee told Gretel, noticing her eying a red sweater Monroe was adding to the laundry pile.

The sweater was not really Gretel's style (not nearly enough leather or secret pockets for her taste), but it wasn't as girly as the clothes she'd borrowed from Juliette that time she'd gone to a party with her and Nick. And, more importantly, it looked comfortable, and -much as she wanted to deny it- Gretel seriously _needed_ some comfort.

Even if it was from something as simple as a baggy knitted sweater.

She couldn't help but think, as she -after slipping upstairs to her attic room- pulled the sweater over her head, letting the warmth of it settle on her body (completely bare except for her bra), that there was good reason she'd stuck to leather and lace and never indulged herself like this before.

Leather pants and lace-up bodices were clingy, they stuck to your body so that a Wesen couldn't grasp your clothes in a fight and use that against you. With a sweater like this, a Hexenbiest could probably snag you by one perfectly manicured fingernail and strangle you with the yarn while she unraveled it.

No, this would have never done growing up. Not with the life Gretel had always lived.

She didn't even feel right wearing something like this _now_ ; it felt too much like letting her guard down, leaving herself open. But she reminded herself she was in a house owned by a Blutbad who would probably literally rip out a ribcage before he let someone hurt a friend of Nick's. So right now as safe as she would ever be to enjoy something like this. The feel of wool. The pleasure of its softness.

God, how often, only a few measly years ago, had she wondered what it would be like to be a teenager in a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, baby-blanket colored woolen throw around her shoulders, steaming hot cup of cocoa in her hands, watching MTV without worrying that something was sneaking up behind her?

She'd never had the chance for that -always too busy fighting for her life and for a living- and now she was too old for MTV or silly cartoon character themed clothes. She was a grown up now, more interested in coffee and booze than anything as unstimulating as hot cocoa. She'd always needed to be wired to survive, and now she wondered if she had to be on guard constantly -even when there wasn't any danger- just to feel like she was _herself_.

If _comfort_ wasn't comfortable to her...

Maybe her hands would _never_ -no matter the circumstances- feel truly relaxed when they weren't clutching a weapon or at least positioned with her fingers in general range of one.

Gretel unbraided her hair, shook it out, and let it fall around her shoulders. From the (half-hidden by wool) hips down, she looked like her usual self, from the waist up, she might have been a different person entirely.

Who _was_ this person? Hair loose, baggy borrowed sweater...

Shaking her head again, Gretel re-braided her hair, and tied a small knot in the side of the sweater to make it fit tighter. A compromise. Between herself and the unreachable comfort she needed.

She fingered the knot, hanging just below her stitches where Hansel had stabbed her, pensively.

Sometimes Gretel wondered what she'd be like if she was a normal person. Not a half-Hexenbiest. Or even -though she considered this less often because it was such an enormous part of her identity, and it would be easier to think about life without a right arm- a Grimm.

If they were just regular people, she'd still have her brother. Hansel wouldn't hate her. Memory loss or not, he'd probably welcome the idea of a sister, so long as she wasn't a monster. It would take him a while to warm up to her, but his instincts, the same ones that kept him from cutting off her head now, would take care of that.

But as long as she was visibly part Hexenbiest and his memory continued to fail him, he'd keep hating and distrusting her.

Interestingly, her problems with Nick were exactly the opposite. It was being something more than Kehrseite that brought them together and made them friends.

Being ordinary, in another life, wouldn't have made things between them different. He'd still have found Juliette first, and -without a reason to- he and Gretel probably would have never met and become friends.

Or, if they had, he'd have just thought she was some random homeless woman, looking for throwaways.

No, if she and Hansel weren't what they were, their parents would have never left them. Thanks to Renard, she knew that now.

So she'd have had no reason to ever come to Portland or live on the streets.

She and Nick _definitely_ would have never met.

And she wouldn't have feelings she didn't want for him now. Feelings she couldn't face up to, because they were already hurting her, even as she kept repressing them. Nick had probably told Juliette Gretel wanted to give Hansel some space and that's why he hadn't brought her home; but that wasn't true. Gretel could deal with the pain her twin's current mood put her through. He didn't want to see her? Well, eff him. He'd have to deal; she was staying at Nick and Juliette's house _first_.

The _real_ reason was living with Nick just made a hard situation harder.

Especially after what happened.

Add Hansel to that mix and you'd literally have Gretel's idea of a living hell.

So for right now, it was better to just stay here. Safe in Monroe's house, trying on a sweater, thinking over things that didn't bear thinking about, waiting to be called down to dinner.

* * *

"Good work on the Snowlight case," Captain Renard said, passing Nick and Hank's desks on the way to his office. "So I take it you've heard about the change of plans with our fundraiser?"

Nick and Hank exchanged a puzzled glance.

"No," said Nick, turning his attention away from Hank and to his boss. "What's up?"

"Well, the firemen of Portland have booked a black-and-white masked ball, to raise money for the children of the firefighters who died in that forest fire last year, on the same night." Sean Renard raised his eyebrows. "Same place."

"So... We're off the hook?" Hank looked hopeful. "No karaoke?"

The captain shook his head. "Somebody messed up and we don't have the money to get a different venue. Long story short, the two events have been lumped into one. So I'd stop at a costume shop at some point in the next week and pick up something to wear if I were you."

Carl Fieri came over carrying a cardboard holder with four steaming cups of coffee. He set one down next to Nick, then reached over to hand another to Hank.

"Are one of those coffees for me?" Renard asked.

Carl nodded. "The one on the left." He gestured at the last one with his chin. "That right there's Sergeant Wu's hot herbal tea with cinnamon."

The Captain took his coffee and, hesitating for a moment, woged quickly.

Though he did inhale sharply, Carl didn't drop Wu's tea or even tremble. He just woged in return, revealing his Daemonfeuer face.

Renard's own face went back to normal and he nodded, approvingly. "I think you're going to fit in around here just fine, Carl."

Carl retracted his own woge, not fully letting out that deep breath he'd taken until Renard disappeared into his office. " _Jesus_!" he muttered.

"It's official," Hank said, chuckling lightly, "you're part of the team now."

"What team?" Sergeant Wu suddenly appeared at his elbow, dropping off a paper on his desk.

"Uh... The team of hard working policemen and detectives at this precinct," Nick came up with quickly. "I believe you've met our new intern?"

"I've got your tea," Carl told him.

Drew Wu took the hot styrofoam cup in his hands and sniffed it lightly. "I like this kid," he decided, walking away.

Carl did his best not to smile. Not that it was easy. It had been too long since he'd fit in anywhere, and it seemed -now that acceptance had finally come, from such an unexpected source- all these years he'd been looking in the wrong places.

He wondered what his cousin Ariel would think about him working with the Grimm. Somehow, he got the idea she'd be pretty pleased with the whole arrangement.

* * *

A horrified scream rang through the house and Nick was caught between the habitual desire to jump up, gun drawn, and his true longing to just roll over, pressing a pillow to his ear.

"Nick..." moaned Juliette. "I think it's Hansel again."

Oh, of _course_ it was! The guy had more nightmares than a freaking war veteran. The problem was that last time they'd gotten up to see what was wrong, Hansel denied ever screaming in his sleep and looked at them like they were out of their minds.

"Your turn," Nick tried.

Under the covers, Juliette kicked his leg. "Nick!"

"I don't see why I have to get up and run to his side in the first place," Nick mumbled. "He's not a baby."

But he _was_ the brother of one of his best friends... And, even if Hansel wouldn't admit it, he was scared to death. No one who screamed like that was really okay. They couldn't be. No way in hell would someone who wasn't afraid cry out like that.

And, more than once, it had been Gretel's name that was screamed.

In his sleep, Hansel _remembered_.

Maybe Nick just had some stupid hope that one time he'd wake him up so fast his brain wouldn't have time to forget and he'd recall everything about Gretel being his twin.

Besides, if he didn't wake Hansel up, he'd just keep screaming. It wasn't like they could sleep through _that_...

" _Hansel_ ," Nick called into the guest room, tying a bathrobe around himself. "Hansel, it's Nick. You're screaming again."

"Gretel..."

Juliette appeared at his side.

"What are you doing here?" Nick whispered.

"Well, I'm up _now_." Juliette shrugged, rolling her eyes. "He's still shouting."

" _Gretel_!"

Juliette nudged past Nick, into the room. "Hansel, wake up." She shook their guest's shoulder. "Come on."

"Ah!" Hansel jumped up, grabbing Juliette's wrist and squeezing.

Nick jumped forward, ready to spring at him.

Hansel's eyes shot open. He noticed Juliette, cracked a half-smile, and grunted, "Just couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Let go of me," Juliette growled.

"Some people can't take a joke." Hansel rolled his eyes and released her wrist.

"Are you all right?" Nick was looking anxiously at his girlfriend's wrist, examining it for bruises. It was a little red, but it wasn't damaged; there was no darkening skin, no tears from Hansel's ragged nails. Which was good. Since Nick really didn't want to have to kill Gretel's brother. Something like that could put a big damper on a friendship.

"I'm fine," Juliette said. "But this is getting ridiculous. He screams Gretel's name every single night while we're trying to sleep, and yet he expects us to believe he has no memory of her."

"Juliette-" Nick tried, starting to shake his head.

"No, Nick, I'm sick and tried of this," Juliette snapped. She glared at Hansel. "Look, there is _obviously_ something wrong with you. No one's debating that. But I think you remember a hell of a lot more than you let on, and _that's_ why you act the way you do." Her eyes narrowed. "And the _real_ reason you don't want Gretel here."

" _Please_." Hansel started stretching his arms over his head nonchalantly. "I don't want to see her because she's a Hexenbiest." He sniffed and let out a low groan. "Burn 'em all."

"You're crazy," Juliette mumbled, throwing up her hands. "I'm going back to bed. Nick, are you coming?"

"Yeah, in just a minute." Nick couldn't help wondering if there was some truth to Juliette's idea that Hansel's memory loss was not as total in regards to Gretel as he was leading them to believe. "You really have started remembering her. Isn't that right, Hansel?"

"Yeah...uh... Everything that happened, you know, before yesterday, is a little foggy..." Hansel stopped stretching and pulled the covers back over his lap. "You know what I'm saying? I don't... I don't really concern myself with the past." He turned and pumped up a pillow before plopping his head down on it. "Can't change it."

Nick started to turn away. There was no point to this. He might as well just go back to the bedroom with Juliette and pray that Hansel didn't fall into another nightmare and start screaming his head off for the sister he so vehemently denied.

Then an idea popped into his head. It probably wasn't a good one. It wasn't right to use the information he planned to use to goad Hansel into acceptance like this.

All the more so since it was something Gretel had told him in confidence.

But if it worked... If it snapped him out of this funk...

Hansel might even forgive him.

Would _Gretel_ , though?

Well, he'd soon find out. Nick took a deep breath and watched Hansel peeking at him through half-closed eyes as he pretended to be falling back asleep. "So, was Mina a Wesen?"

Hansel's eyes shot open, his whole expression tightening. "How the hell do you know about Mina?"

"How do _you_?" Nick challenged. "You were with her when you were a teenager. I thought you said everything before yesterday was foggy."

"You son of a bitch," muttered Hansel, getting up and walking over to the window.

"What kind of Wesen was she, Hansel?" he pushed.

" _Stop_."

"This is my house. I'll stop when I feel like it."

"Bastard."

"Was she a Daemonfeuer? Like Ariel?"

Hansel didn't answer.

Juliette had stopped in the doorway, no longer heading back for their room, watching all this with a mixture of confusion and fascination.

"Oh, I get it," Nick went on, "she was something a little more gross. _Lebensauger_?"

Hansel clenched his jaw.

Nick couldn't _see_ it, but he had the feeling a vein somewhere in the Grimm's forehead was throbbing. "A Grimm and a Lebensauger... Wow, you really _will_ go for any woman with a pulse, won't you?"

Hansel spun around. "She was a _Hexenbiest_ , you imbecile!"

That surprised Nick; he hadn't seen that coming, though it did explain a lot. Hansel's 'hatred' for Gretel wasn't really hatred at all. It had nothing to do with her.

Clearly his memories of this Mina girl had come back before his memories of Gretel. Something bad must have happened to her, something that hardened him even more than he'd already been. If Nick had to guess, he'd say yet another Hexenbiest was responsible. It was a defense tactic for more than his childhood trauma; it was a protection against letting himself believe there _could_ be a good Hexenbiest in the world, then losing them at the hands of a bad one.

If he killed Gretel before he fully remembered, before he loved her again, a Hexenbiest couldn't take her from him.

Sure it was twisted logic, but the guy's whole mind was twisted. Hansel had been pushed over the edge.

And Nick was planning on pushing it even further. Even with the surprise confession, he could still redirect this. He could still break Hansel to save him.

Hopefully, it would also reunite him with his sister.

After what he'd done to Gretel, messing with her emotions -even though he hadn't meant to, hadn't known how she felt- Nick figured he owed her this. Even if she hated him forever for it. Because this was what real friends did for each other.

"Out of curiosity, Hansel, do you remember seeing your sister after you spent some time with Mina?"

"I don't have a sister."

"She didn't look..." Nick paused, faking thoughtfulness. "Battered? Like someone had tried to hurt her? Maybe a little disheveled?"

Hansel pressed his hand to his forehead like he was having an aneurysm. "She wouldn't tell me," he murmured. "She wouldn't tell me what happened."

"Nothing much." Nick struggled to keep any emotion out of his voice. "Some idiots just tried to rape her."

"Nobody touches her!" Hansel's whole body was shaking. "I'll kill the effing bastards!"

 _Now_ Nick could let a little emotion through. "It's all right," he said gently, "Edward got most of them."

Hansel's eyes met his. It was like seeing a dam breaking. The memories he couldn't repress anymore started cracking through to his expression. For one split-second, Nick actually thought he saw the person Gretel knew and had tried to tell him about -the _real_ Hansel- before he went from cracking to outright _crumbling_.

He pressed against the wall, sliding down until his bottom reached the floor. Then, curled up in a ball, this great, strong Grimm started crying like a lost little boy. His sobs sent his whole body into what almost looked like a seizure.

" _God_ , Nick," whispered Juliette, coming back into the room. "I think you broke him."

Nick wasn't proud of it, but it wasn't like there had been a whole lot of other options. "I had to, Juliette." He looked at the man on the floor with his face buried in his arms, his knees to his heaving chest. "It was the only way to bring him back."

* * *

Gretel was asleep with her hands tucked under her head, the look on her face almost peaceful for once, when the car pulled up in front of Monroe's house.

It wasn't the noise that woke her so much as the sensation that something lost was being returned. She jolted up, as if from a sudden and sharply ending dream, with this wonderful feeling. Sort of like she imagined normal kids felt during summer holidays or Christmas...

Her mind kept telling her she was wrong, but her heart knew she wasn't. He was here. Not just his body, but his _mind_. Her brother, her twin, _her_ Hansel...

As she all but flew down the stairs, she kept trying to stop herself from this rise to obvious disappointment. This was a dream; this wasn't _real_.

Still, it was obviously really Monroe standing there with the door open, asking Nick if he knew what time it was and telling him he was crazy to 'bring him here'.

And behind Nick (and Juliette, who Gretel barely noticed was there to begin with) was Hansel.

Jumping down the last step, gently nudging past Rosalee's attempt to hold her back for her own safety, Gretel found herself at Monroe's side, gaping at her brother.

She tried to say, " _Hansel_ ," but no sound came out, only a strangled, uncharacteristic whimper.

Finally, putting her last few fears to rest, Hansel looked at her - _at_ her, not _through_ her- and said, very simply, "Hi."

Gretel smiled brokenly at him. "Hi," she whispered back.

With that, Nick stepped aside, and the two siblings threw themselves into each others' arms. There was no hesitation. No fear, no mistrust. It was only a brother and sister who loved each other deeply, who were all each other had left, _finally_ reuniting.

" _Gretel_ ," groaned Hansel, holding on tight. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

"It's all right." She felt him stroking her hair, her back, reassuringly, just like he used to when she was a little girl, usually right after a nightmare. She felt his fingers drift to her stitches, feeling them guiltily. "I'm okay," she reassured him. "I'm okay."

Monroe had to clear his throat to keep from getting choked up. Nick bit his lower lip. Rosalee forced a tight smile and blinked rapidly. Even Juliette was having a hard time keeping her eyes dry through this.

As they pulled apart, Hansel still clung to his sister's hand, squeezing so tight that if it weren't for her callouses from fighting it would have hurt.

And nothing in the world could have made him let go.


	14. Exactly The Wrong Thing, At Exactly The Wrong Time

Chapter 14: Exactly The Wrong Thing, At Exactly The Wrong Time

The healing of Hansel and Gretel was pretty weird to watch. Maybe it was because, nowadays, it's rare for people to be so close that when they break apart you can actually _see_ their mending, their fusing back together.

That deeply moving scene between them at Monroe's front door had only been the tip of the iceberg.

Hours later, Hansel still hadn't let go of his sister's hand. They sat together on the couch, staring lazily at nothing in particular, his head on her shoulder and her head rested on top of his. They clung to each other like they'd been through a shipwreck. Like they'd been left alone by their parents, not years ago when they were little kids, but _today_. There was no sound to be heard aside from their breathing (almost in sync) and occasional soft moans. Not the kind that followed nightmares; the kind that only comes out of a creature -of _any_ kind, Wesen or otherwise- that's had such a huge relief there is just no other way to express it.

"Should we say something?" Monroe whispered to Rosalee, at a bit of a loss. "Offer them something to eat?" Hansel in particular looked like he could use a pick me up. "Or _drink_ , maybe?"

"No." Rosalee shook her head. "I think we should just leave them alone. Whatever they're going through right now, they obviously need it."

"What do you think Nick said to him? To make him come back out of nowhere like this?"

Rosalee shrugged. "I don't know." Her eyes drifted to the still-as-statues siblings on the couch. "But whatever it was, it worked."

The whispering, the actual words forming complete sentences, didn't start until several hours later. The sun was already up and peeking in yellow-orange rays through the curtains by the time Hansel asked Gretel how she'd been holding up without him.

"I've been okay," she whispered.

"I'm really glad you found Nick. This way, at least you had someone who was there for you when..." He swallowed, like it pained him. "When I couldn't be."

Gretel sighed.

"I'm really sorry."

"I know. You keep telling me."

"Just let me get this out, Sis." She felt the retraction of his smile. "I'm really sorry for what I said to you, back at the hospital."

"You didn't mean it."

"That's what scares me," Hansel whispered. "I'm worried some part of me _did_." He squeezed her hand. "That deep down I'm more of a monster than you could ever be."

"It's not true, Hansel." Gretel kissed his hairline, quickly and roughly. To anyone who didn't know them, it would have looked void of any affection. But, being hardcore Grimms, this was about as gentle as they got with each other. "You're not a monster."

"Did you know I'd come back?"

"I hoped for it, for a long time. Then, when you didn't, I pretended I still had hope. Because I couldn't let myself give up. I still have your insulin needle from the day you went missing."

"The day they took me."

"Was it horrible?"

"More horrible than you can imagine."

"You're not going to tell me what they did to you," Gretel realized. "Are you?"

"Hell, no."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't you tell me about almost being raped?"

Gretel stiffened. "Nick told you that."

"Yeah." Hansel grimaced. "Don't be mad at him, Gretel. He only did what he had to."

"Hansel..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She closed her eyes and inhaled. "I couldn't hurt you like that." She'd known what telling him about those effing bastards would have done to her brother.

"And I can't hurt _you_ by telling you what I've just been through." Hansel bit his lower lip. Releasing it, he added, "I'm sorry, Gretel, but I just can't do that to you."

"I'll think the worst," she warned him.

"You do that, then." Hansel sighed.

Gretel rolled her eyes. "I'm just glad you're back."

"Me too, Sis." He closed his eyes. "Me too."

* * *

Nick was cutting out a slice of a big lasagna Juliette had made for dinner when he heard someone at the door.

"Here." Juliette's fingers wrapped around the knife, taking it from him. "I'll take care of that. Why don't you go see who's on the porch?"

"Thanks." Nick shook his head distractedly. His mind was still on Gretel and Hansel, much as he tried to assure himself everything was okay between them now, that he'd brought Hansel back for good.

Gretel stood in the doorway, one foot inside. She'd already opened the door with her key. Which she'd still kept, even after moving into Monroe's spare attic room. Nick hadn't bothered to ask for it back.

"Hey." Nick was surprised by how glad he felt to see her here. Even knowing she most likely wasn't here to stay, it was like seeing a long lost family member come home. It just felt _right_ , somehow. Maybe it shouldn't have, but it did.

Gretel swallowed. She took a step towards him and slapped him hard across the mouth. " _That_ ," she said slowly, "was for what you told Hansel." Then, unexpectedly, she hugged him, her arms locking around the back of his neck.

"What's this for?" he murmured, his jaw still aching from the force of the slap even as he registered being hugged.

"For what you told Hansel." He thought he heard her fighting back a sniffle. "Thank you. Thank you for bringing him back to me."

"You're welcome, Gretel." Realizing she apparently wasn't ready to let go of him just yet, Nick held onto her, letting her cling to him like she was _his_ sister instead of Hansel's.

However, to Juliette, who came out of the kitchen to see what all the noise was about (two Grimms exchanging blows and thank yous are _incapable_ of being quiet), there was nothing brotherly about it.

There it was again. That twinge of jealousy Juliette kept thinking (or _hoping_ ) she was over but never really was. The way they related to each other, on a level Juliette would never fully understand, the look on their faces when they were together like this, even the positions of their bodies, so relaxed and trusting and yet still somehow on guard the way Grimms always have to be, secretly frustrated her.

She could keep trying to tell herself that it wasn't any different from if this were Hansel or Monroe hugging Nick right now.

Only it didn't matter. Not really.

Because it wasn't that she didn't trust Nick, or that she hated Gretel. It ran deeper than that. In ran into the illogical conclusion that, even as he was being a hundred and ten percent loyal to her, Nick was falling -whether he knew and accepted it or not- in love with his new friend. Juliette even suspected Gretel was _already_ in love with him. How could she not be? He'd been there for her -in a way she guessed no guy ever really had- and now he'd given her back her brother. That look on her face, so contented in Nick's embrace, was more than just grateful.

Juliette couldn't prove it; she doubted she could even make Nick believe it if she voiced what she now knew. But she did _know_.

She knew, one way or another, Gretel had feelings for her boyfriend.

Which meant there was no easy way out of this for all three of them. One of them -her, Nick, or Gretel- was going to end up with a broken heart.

And, it might have been selfish, but after all she'd gone through -already almost having lost Nick once before- she couldn't stand the thought of it being her. She and Nick were happy. For the first time in a long, long while, they were truly and completely happy. They didn't need this. They'd never asked for Gretel to come charging into their lives, complicating what was already too complicated. It wasn't _fair_.

Nick and Gretel finally let go of one another.

Watching them as they -a little awkwardly but not without big, dopey grins on their faces- said goodbye and Gretel turned to leave, probably back to Monroe's, where her brother would undoubtedly still be waiting to continue their ongoing Grimm Twins reunion, Juliette decided she had to stop this. She had to talk to Nick and make him understand where this thing with Gretel was really headed. She had to apologize for feeling this way, but also make it perfectly clear that she couldn't take this anymore. Yes, Gretel meant a lot to him; it broke Juliette's heart to think of how bad giving up such a close friend was going to tear Nick up inside. She was just hoping _she_ meant more. That he loved her enough to let Gretel go before things got worse.

Besides, he still had Monroe and Rosalee. It wasn't the same thing, but at least he would still have people he could rely on, even if they weren't Grimms like Gretel and her brother.

And Hansel was better now, so technically Nick didn't need to be there for Gretel anymore. She wasn't all alone. Anything else he wanted to do for her now was just that: a want. Not a need. Juliette had been patient all this time, knowing there was nothing else to be done. Gretel had needed their help. Now she didn't. She'd be all right. It was time to cut the ties. Time for things to go, if not back to normal, than at least close to it. At least back to the way things were before that first day she saw Nick sitting on a bench holding Gretel's hand.

"Nick?"

He turned to face her, still smiling like a lovestruck schoolboy.

Juliette gnawed nervously on the inside of her cheek. "We need to talk."

* * *

"Juliette, how long are you going to stay mad at me?" Nick asked.

She had her back to him, standing at the coffee maker, watching the pot fill up.

"Geez," she snapped, her tone hurt. "I don't know, Nick... Maybe until I can get over the fact that my boyfriend doesn't care about my feelings."

"You _know_ that's not true."

The coffee maker beeped. She poured herself a cup and turned around to face Nick. "I told you last night how I feel about Gretel still hanging around now that she doesn't need our help anymore, and you completely blew me off!"

"That's not true," Nick insisted. "First off, I didn't blow you off. Second, what makes you think Gretel doesn't need our help anymore?"

"She has her brother back," Juliette pointed out. "He can look after her."

"Honey, Hansel remembers her now, but that doesn't mean he's all better." Nick shook his head. "The man's been through hell. Right now, he can barely look after _himself_ , let alone another person. The only progress we've made is that he no longer wants to kill his sister."

"I don't know about you, but _I_ would call that a major breakthrough," Juliette grumbled.

"So would I." Nick shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I'd let the guy operate heavy machinery or take my car anywhere. If you get what I mean."

"You let Gretel drive the car."

"Yeah, so?" He looked confused. "You told me you were _fine_ with that."

"I _was_. When this was a temporary arrangement." Juliette put her cup down and folded her arms across her chest. "But you obviously don't want her to go. And for some reason you like her a lot better than her brother."

"Juliette, no, I see where you're going with this." Nick took a step towards her. "You have to believe I would _never_ do that to you. Gretel is a really good _friend_. And I trust her not to drive my car to Vegas and bring it back full of glitter and showgirls. Just because I don't have the same confidence in Hansel, doesn't mean I'm treating her special, or that I care more about her than you."

"No, you just want to keep spending all of your time with her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Like when you take her with you to the trailer, or when you go off in the woods alone and fight each other..." Juliette's face clenched. "Nick, it's disgusting. I've tried to be supportive of you, but I'm _not_ okay with how close you guys are."

"It's disgusting that we _fight_?" Nick blinked at her. "And what do you mean close? We're _friends_."

"I know, that's what you keep telling me!"

"It's the _truth_."

"She's falling in love with you, you know," Juliette told him. "You probably don't believe it..." She stared at her hopeless boyfriend's unmoving face. "It's still the truth."

That was when Nick made his mistake. This might have been a good time to keep quiet, to keep being rational and appealing to Juliette's sense of reason and justice. If he had, he might have won in the end, Juliette at least somewhat reassured.

Instead, he said exactly the wrong thing.

He said, "I know."

Juliette's eyes widened. " _What_?"

"Juliette, it's not..."

"Nick..." Her voice got very tense very quickly. "How do you know? Did she tell you?"

He shook his head. "No. I just...I figured it out when..." When he'd kissed her that one time.

"When what?"

"This is crazy," Nick said. "She has a _crush_ on me, for God's sake. She has some feelings for me. Probably because I'm the first person who's ever stuck by her that she didn't share a womb with. That's the only reason she likes me in that way, and she'd never act on that."

"Why are you avoiding my question?"

"I'm not." He was. Not because he really had anything to hide -it wasn't like anything actually had happened- but he still knew that Juliette would be hurt if she knew he'd kissed Gretel. Regardless of the circumstances.

"Did something happen between you two?"

" _No_."

They were suddenly interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet. Their heads whipped around, only to see a disheveled Ariel Eberhart in a bathrobe and slippers, helping herself to the coffee.

"Uh, excuse me?" Nick snapped, glaring at her.

" _What_?" Juliette choked out, momentarily distracted from her argument with Nick. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Oh, don't worry about it." She smiled coyly and shrugged like they were the best of friends and her sudden appearance in their kitchen was not a big deal. "Hansel let me in."

"When did _he_ get back here?" Juliette's voice was getting dangerously shrill.

"Wasn't he with Gretel?" Nick asked.

"Hmm, not last night." Her smile deepened into a smirk. "At least not _all_ of it."

Speak of the devil. Hansel appeared, also wearing a bathrobe (which, Nick noticed, looked suspiciously like one of _his_ ).

"Oh my _God_ ," Juliette growled.

Nick fought the urge to smack Hansel upside the head. This wasn't exactly helping his case that having Hansel and Gretel stick around longer was a _good_ idea...

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Hansel said dryly, arching an eyebrow at Juliette and nudging Ariel aside so he could get at what was left of the coffee.

"Okay, I don't even want to know where _she's_ been since Gretel got stabbed, or why she thinks it's all right to just make herself at home here, Hansel or no Hansel," Juliette glared at Ariel, then let her eyes drift back to Nick. "But we're in the middle of a discussion here, and-"

"Uh-oh," Hansel commented jokingly, pulling out a chair and sitting down, "sounds like mom and dad are fighting again."

"Don't you just hate when they do that?" giggled Ariel.

"Will both of you shut up and get out of my kitchen?" Juliette snapped.

"Well, that's awfully rude," Ariel said, putting her cup in the sink.

"Some people just don't know how they come off to others," Hansel agreed.

"Just get out of here already!" Nick barked.

"Okay, okay." Ariel pouted, turning to leave.

In all the mounting tension as Nick and Juliette resumed their disagreement, they didn't even notice Hansel was still there (only Ariel had actually left, and that was just into the next room) sipping away at his pilfered coffee.

"Nick, I'm going to ask you again," Juliette said. "Is there something - _anything_ \- going on between you and Gretel?"

"Better not be," Hansel muttered into his mug.

Maybe _this_ was why Grimms didn't hold extended family reunions. Nick shot Hansel a dirty look over his shoulder. Why the hell was Gretel's mentally whacked twin still in the kitchen?

Hansel pulled his lips away from the rim and took a long swallow, setting the remainder of the coffee down. "I just don't want to have to kill you, especially considering how hospitable you've been."

Juliette pointed at the opening between the kitchen and the dinning room emphatically. "Get. _Out_!"

"See, remember what I just said about being hospitable?" Hansel pointed out.

" _Out_!" shrieked Juliette.

"Fine, I can tell when I'm not wanted." Hansel sauntered out like he was on a runway.

" _Finally_ ," Juliette hissed under her breath.

"You realize he just stole our mug?" Nick said.

"Nick, don't change the subject."

"Juliette, I'm telling you, _nothing_ happened."

"I want to believe you," she said, her tone going quiet. "You have _no idea_ how much... But I _know_ you, Nick. And, while I know you would never want to hurt me... You look like you're holding in guilt. And it could be over something totally different, but it's still something you're keeping from me." She bit her lower lip. "We promised no more secrets, and you still aren't telling me everything. You didn't tell me about Ariel still being alive, even though you knew all that time... Now there's something else, something you're not telling me. Call me crazy, but my gut is screaming that it's something to do with Gretel."

"Juliette..."

"Don't try and sweep it under the rug," she warned him. "If you aren't going to be completely honest with me, I'm just going to assume the worst. No matter how hard it is to think of you like that. To think you're capable of hurting me."

Nick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "We kissed, _once_. It didn't mean anything. That's all that's _ever_ happened. I'm not lying when I say we're just friends."

Juliette's face went very white very fast. "She kissed you?"

"No." He wasn't about to let her get mad at Gretel for _his_ screw up. "I kissed her."

"Oh, God." Juliette brushed past him and started for the door.

"It's not what you think," Nick protested. "Juliette, I can explain!"

"I'm sure you can," she said insincerely. "But I have to go to work."

He followed her out of the kitchen, chasing after her, only to have the front door slam shut in his face.


	15. Enough of an Ending

Chapter 15: Enough of an Ending

Nick set the leaky pen down beside the open book and, with a light wince, flexed the cramped muscles of his hand. He could hear the ink-spotted knuckles cracking loudly in the cold, echoing air of his late aunt's trailer.

"You're ending it _there_?" said an incredulous voice from the person peering, rather rudely, over his shoulder. "Bit _Lady or the Tiger_ , isn't it?"

"Hansel, I didn't invite you here to be a running commentary on my writing choices."

Hansel scoffed. "You didn't invite me at all."

"Good point. What the hell are you even doing here?"

"Mooching off family," he said, rather obtusely. "It's sort of become my thing over the last six years."

"Exactly," said Nick, gesturing down at the open book filled with drawings (he hadn't drawn them himself, at least not the good ones) and lined with text, detailing the story of how he had met Gretel and Hansel – it was also the story of the Bianca Snowlight case, and at least _that_ portion was complete. "It's been _six years_." There were a lot of painful bits, things he'd would rather not remember, even if it had all worked out for the best. Moreover, some things were private. "I think this is the last I have to say about it."

Folding his arms across his chest, Hansel leaned his thigh against Nick's desk. "What would you say to future generations, future Grimms reading this, when they ask what happened?"

Nick thought for a moment. Then sighed. "I think," he said, without malice or even weariness, just a slightly burnt sense of right and wrong, "I'd tell them the story is over; close the book and leave the trailer."

"Yeah, I guess we all have to," Hansel agreed vaguely, in a tone that was maybe intended to be deep, "sometime or other. I still think it's a rotten cliffhanger, though."

"She never did come back," Nick murmured. "She just walked away, angry at me, and never came back."

"I know, Nick," Hansel reminded him. "I _was_ there."

"Stealing coffee mugs."

"Never going to let that one go, are you?"

"Do you need a ride back to your place?" Nick asked.

About five years ago, Nick had helped Hansel, who was finally able to function at that point without being a self-destructive basketcase (within reason), get an apartment; and luckily the wayward Grimm had managed to keep it. He hadn't even gotten into that many fights with his landlord, which was a miracle in and of itself. Since Hansel and the landlord, in the way of these things, absolutely _hated_ one another.

"No, I'm _fine_ walking back in the freezing snow." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I even hope I meet up with some surly Wesen on the way, I'm so frigging pumped."

With a little frown, Nick made his way to the door and opened it with a jostle. "It's snowing?"

"You really were lost in your own little world, writing that, huh?"

"I guess so."

* * *

It was late when Nick made it to the house and dragged his feet up the empty stairs in the dark.

There was a dim lamp left on in the bedroom. His wife always left it on if he wasn't there when she went to sleep. He sometimes wondered if she knew how much he loved her. There had been a time, he knew, when she doubted it. Doubted he didn't wish she was someone else, regardless of the fact that he always told her otherwise, tried to assure her it was the honest truth.

He wished he knew if she still had those doubts on their wedding day, about four years ago. He didn't know if it was worse to think she had or that she hadn't. If she hadn't, it entailed a certain confidence in him, one he liked to think she had. He didn't like to think the life they'd had together – were still having together – was built on insecurities, mostly of his own making. But if she had, it meant she'd made a leap of faith; it meant she loved him enough to risk either outcome.

There was still snow in Nick's hair as leaned over the foot of the bed to reach for his nightclothes.

The slight give in the mattress as he rested against it woke her, and she sat up, dark hair tussled. "Mmm. You're back. What time is it?"

"Late," Nick offered, his grin sheepish.

She blinked blearily at the alarm clock by the bed. "Did Hansel get home?"

"Yeah, he's fine." _A complete pain in the ass and an impromptu historical records critic_ , Nick added in his head, _but fine_.

"Yeah, I know my brother can be a pain in the ass," she yawned, as if reading his mind. She did that a lot, actually.

Nick's eyes drifted to the little silver-framed wedding photograph beside the alarm clock. "He made a damn good usher, though. I still say we should have gotten him a job at a movie theater."

"Nick?"

"Yes?"

"How much of what happened did you write, in that book?"

"Enough," he answered, simply.

And in the half light, her partial woge visible, Gretel smiled.


End file.
